Halfmoon
by Irradiate
Summary: Following the defeat of the White Legs in Zion, Joshua Graham once again requires the aid of The Courier as Legionaries pose a new threat to him and his tribe. Possible slash/romance. [M!Courier.] [ In progress.]
1. Prologue

After the final battle with Zion's White Legs, which would lead to their defeat and the death of their savage leader, Joshua Graham would remain in the canyon with his tribe, the Dead Horses, alongside their Sorrow neighbors.

The lone surviving Happy Trails assistant, a courier, who had helped them in winning their war left the canyon after all was said and done. Not permanently, of course; he kept close affiliations with Joshua and the Zion tribes after his departure. He would even return on occasion, though this would become something of great scarcity as months passed. With the canyon now restored to its rightful neutrality, the courier absent more often than not, and the White Legs no longer a concern, Joshua had the opportunity to set his priorities onto other matters.

Such as the Legionary couriers Dead Horse scouts would report traveling Zion's beaten roads time and time again. The Dead Horses would never attack the Legionaries, despite knowledge of their chief's resentment for them, as these Legionaries would pass through as quickly and silently as they came. No aggression. No crucifixion. No preaching. Not a word spoken, in fact. The passing couriers always seemed to be more intent on their job at hand than the Caesar-less tribals taking up residence within the canyon. …A rare occurrence for the imperialistic Legion.

In the most recent months, the sightings of these couriers became subtly more common. Just enough so to raise Joshua's suspicion regarding these Legion men's true reason for navigating Zion.

The Legion had very few camps and even less _people of interest_ on the opposing treks of land beyond Zion. For what reason were they sending such a significant amount of their men through this particular path? Taking all things into consideration, Joshua evidently became concerned these couriers may be within the handful of Caesar's personal spies, sent to collect reports of Joshua's whereabouts; perhaps so that Caesar could get himself an upper hand in his pursuit to have Joshua assassinated. A long time goal the tyrant _still_ had yet to accomplish.

And we all know how much Caesar loves failure, don't we? Per example, _Legate_ Joshua Graham's "service discharge".

In all of Caesar's years of trying and failing to kill the infamous Burned Man, this would be his most creative, devious attempt yet. Sending non-hostile men through the canyon, posing as harmless couriers, and giving them no direct evidence to reveal their identity as Frumentarii. He knew Joshua could not kill who he had no rightful reason to. Was it that Caesar was finally using that knowledge to his advantage?

Perhaps, if these couriers could not be killed, they could be _caught._ The trek from Zion back to The Fort was a long, dangerous one; one which often undertook delays due to the Mojave's fearsome environment. That in mind, it is also true the vast majority of travelers coming through Zion would pass their expected date to return. Assuming they did make it home. Unfortunately, the option of killing a courier and posing death by _natural causes_ was off the table for Graham. Caesar trained his men better, they _both_ knew that. He would detect tribal interference the moment word of his dead courier passed. Joshua could, however, take advantage of a delay in the live courier's arrival; stage the Legionary returning to camp a week later than intended due to "violent dust storms" throughout the canyon.

Accomplishing such a goal as discretely capturing a Legionary was something Joshua and his unfortunately ignorant tribe could not do alone. Especially in the case these couriers proved to truly be Frumentarii, which were indisputably some of the most deadly men under Caesar's reign.

Joshua would require the aid of a… _off-kilter_ friend. Someone he knew would offer the right assistance, as well as trust. Perhaps not quite as much of a stable trust as Joshua would like, but, nevertheless, there were very few other than him he trusted more.

_The_ Courier.


	2. Chapter 1

_Hello, all! I'm fairly new to this website, so try to forgive any beginners' mistakes throughout. Anyway, I'm hoping to bring this story to around 20+ chapters, and I promise it'll get more interesting as we progress. _

_Thanks for reading, & I hope I get some people to stay along for the ride!_

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"You still fucking make people abide by that seventy-five-pounds-or-less bullshit?" A voice hissed. The man who had uttered the words dropped a large laser rifle from a strap hanging over his shoulder. The weapon hit the ground with a metallic _clang_, one which the Happy Trails caravan driver before him didn't so much as flinch at. The only reaction he offered was the furrowing of his brows. He watched in silence as his hardly tolerant customer disarmed until he was satisfied with the extent of his cooperation.

"Yep, and it ain't changin' for you, Remi," he drawled, catching the inhospitable, icy blue glance he received from the one he addressed as "Remi", who seemed to be muttering something crude under his breath. He couldn't make out what Remi had said, but he damn well knew it wasn't kind. "Quit your bitching. 'You still want a ride, you'll get over it," he snorted as the taller, darker haired man before him continued to remove supplies and carelessly drop them next to a crate. ..Which was designated for supplies.

Remi had a distaste for leaving any of his lovely weapons out of his company, however in order to get to Zion… He'd manage to part with them, temporarily. It had to be his weapons that he ridded of, as they were without a doubt the heaviest items in his possession. His only other belongings were his clothing and chems, which were all significantly lighter than a Plasma Caster. At that, Remi had no armor he'd have to remove, fortunately. He practically lived in his Kings jacket, wearing that as his _shining armor_ instead; whether or not that poor, beaten leather offered any resistance in combat. Not that Remi gave a damn, though.

Remi eventually stripped himself down enough to meet the weight requirements- with some reluctance, yes- but he still did as instructed, to say the least. Now, with most of his larger weapons abusively strewn away on the ground next to a crate, Remi was left to an array of small guns, and knuckles. Brass knuckles, that is. Nothing more trusty than your own metal-clad fist, right? Remi thought so.

With surprisingly nimble fingers, he smoothed his jacket neatly over the white shirt beneath and zipped it just about half-way up. The zipper idly rested just below his chest. "Right. Fine. There. I'm down to seventy-five," he sneered, looking to the caravan driver for some response. With arms crossed, the Happy Trailsman swirled around on his heel and headed for his caravan wagon, which was already rigged and prepared for travel as of hours ago. This was his expression of his satisfaction, and that Remi was welcome on the ride to Zion now. Remi's chest rose and fell sharply with a drawn-out sigh. He wouldn't verbalize his irritation at the caravaner this time around; there would be no use for it. He'd just ignore it. Remissum zipped his jacket the remainder of the way up his body, then proceeding to follow after his driver, meanwhile mumbling; "Joshua better be real fucking glad I decided to come…"

The drive from the outskirts of New Vegas to Zion felt no shorter this time around than any other, even with no stops or interruptions along the way. The time seemed to pass agonizingly _slower_ when Remi stared out the back of the wagon at the passing landscape; idly staring as raw, broken Earth passed by. Inch by inch, pebble by pebble. The landscape of the Mojave felt rich and strangely _alive_ when one walks it, however when you're merely a spectator of it like this… It gives off a certain barrenness. Hollowness. Perhaps even death.

Remi exhaled deeply through his nose and drew his aching eyes back from the land rolling by outside. He leaned his head back against the wagon tarp and grunted after doing so, as the caravan had passed over a small obstruction in their path. Probably a rock.- Or maybe a dead animal. The Mojave had a whole fucking lot of rocks. And dead things. Remi shifted his weight back so that his neck and shoulders were partially pressed against the tarp as well, so to hold his body steady. His eyes relaxed as he stared at the dimly lit opposite side of the carriage. He lifted his right hand to move stray brunette locks from his forehead, pushing them up over his scalp in an unnaturally messy manner. Generally speaking, Remi always made quite the effort to keep his hair in a smooth wave atop his head. This was nothing like that, but at least his hair was out of the way. On his hand's way back down, he ran fingers over his chin and down his neck, scratching skin through his short, though thick and coarse scruff.

For the next several hours to come, Remi's cornflower eyes wouldn't move from their place on the opposing side of the tarp. He seemed now as if sight was his least honed sense, as his gaze didn't only look stilled, but it looked distant. Out of focus. Hazed. In his lap, Remi had the fist fitted with brass knuckles balled, while the other hand rolled its fingers over the metal, which by now was uncharacteristically warm from the excessive human touch.

Touch, by now, was his only sense which was still in crisp, clear focus. The sensation of fingertips ghosting the tiny scrapes and depressions in otherwise smooth metal was one far from dull to him. Remi knew every mark on that metal piece of equipment as well as he knew that of his own hands. It had such a strong significance to him, despite being such a small, invaluable,_ replaceable_ thing.

As day fell into night, Remi would eventually press his entire back limply against the tarp, slumping lazily. His head tilted back, and eyes now stared higher, toward the top of the carriage. Faded dull grey Brahmin skin spotted with a couple of patchy stains it'd accumulated throughout its days in the Mojave filled his vision. It probably used to be white when it was first crafted. Or.. at least somewhere close to that. Remi's eyes grew tired of watching an unchanging image for so long, and after some time, closed; succumbing to the heaviness that'd settled on them like a Mirelurk over its nest. By now only his hand moved, still endlessly repeating the motion of rubbing worn metal. Only when he fell into shallow sleep did his hands idle in his lap.

The next several days were barely different from the first. The setting surrounding the caravan took a shift in life as they grew closer to Zion, however. The rocks and dust took on the canyon's natural rusted gold color and plant life became subtly more common. Remi toyed with a small wireless radio in his lap as the noon sun above spilled onto him through the thin curtain at the wagon entrance. The sound of buzzing static and occasional flashes of slurred music caused Remi's lip to curl in frustration. Thus far, he hadn't managed to find one clear station. Static and unrecognizable music was it. Flick upon flick later, still he came to no avail. God, it shouldn't be _this_ difficult to get a fucking-

_"You're nobody 'till somebody loves you. And that somebody is me. I love you. - This is Mr. New Vegas, filling in for… Mr. New Vegas."_ A familiar voice crackled through the radio, at long last. Remi sighed and grinned, satisfied with his success. He moved his fingers from the device and kept it sat in his lap, leaning back and closing his eyes as he waited for Mr. New Vegas' usual smooth "Vegas classics" to play.

"Jesus, man. Will you turn that shit off? It gets obnoxious, fast." The caravan driver hissed back at Remi, triggering an audible huff from Remissum. "I got somethin' to show you, anyways," he continued, giving a gesture for Remi to abide to in his direction with a swift turn of his head. Remi flicked the radio off with stiff fingers and tossed it rudely off his lap, letting it hit the wooden bench beside him. It rolled twice, landing on its side. Silent. "…Well don't take your sweet time gettin' up here," he snapped back at Remi as he waited. At that, his teeth clenched and his fist balled. It'd barely been half a minute since his last statement. He understood that it was a small carriage and moving from where he was sitting to the driver was only a matter of several steps, and that the driver was fully aware of such, but he could still have held some fucking patience.

Remi stood and walked behind the sitting driver, where he curled his right hand over one of the metal bars supporting the caravan cover so that he could keep his balance while standing. "What?" He spat simply and irritably, staring out past the Happy Trails worker at the seemingly drab landscape ahead. His eyes narrowed as he stared out, searching for something of significance. He only got more pissed at the caravaner as his eyes failed to find anything even vaguely impressive. What did he want?

The driver took a hand from his Brahmin's reigns and pointed ahead, though at a slight angle veering off from their path. He pointed at a cluster of tall rock formations a good distance ahead. "Look'it one a' them boulders out there. It's got some a' those.. uh.. signal what-nots them tribals you like use," he said, glancing at Remi for conformation he'd spotted the Dead Horse chalk drawings covering a portion of sandstone pillars. Remi stood quietly as he studied the chalk from this distance, eyes squinted. The fingers he had coiled around metal tightened. He knew some of the Dead Horses' signals by now, however he was still particularly rusty with them. He could get the gist of things, at least. What was really troubling, though, wasn't his less-than-average understanding of Dead Horse communication. Why were _Dead Horses_ out here? They still had at least another day and a half before they reached Zion, and generally the Horsemen never ventured outside their homeland this far, especially with most of their necessities already in the canyon. Could it have been Joshua's doing for his men being out this far? Remi's knuckles twitched and his fingers twisted around the metal bar they held. Something in his stomach turned as he studied the writing; made his hand squeeze so hard his knuckles nearly turned white.

"It's an SOS." The words left his lips with a certain weight carried with them. Remi's eyes didn't falter from the stones ahead for another few moments. "Once you reach them, _stop_," he commanded, staring down at the caravan driver. The driver only returned a quick flick of his own brown eyes and a rough, nervous swallow. He wouldn't say anything. He would listen to Remi's words, however, and stopped for him once they reached the immense stones. Of course he would.

From this angle, stopped beside the formations, Remi could see that within the giant boulders was a hollowing. A wide split right down the middle of the rocks. Plenty big enough to accommodate people, however also big enough to accommodate animals, _or worse._ With a loud thud of his boots hitting solid dirt, Remi stepped away from the parked caravan and toward the rocks. He kept one hand pinned to a holster on his hip, harboring a .45 pistol.

His shadow cast dark and long through the hollow, falling over a long dead campfire in the center of the small cave. He took a step further to investigate, however was stopped by the sudden sensation of cold and lifeless steel pressing to his neck.

"Y-you take one more step, I swear I-I'll cut your head off!" _That voice felt familiar._ He tried to turn his head, look at his attacker, though the blade hugging his neck being pressed harder halted him. He grunted quietly. "Don't make me hurt you!" He insisted. Oh, how kind of him. The knife he's got pressed to Rem's neck really exhibits his compassion.

Remi swallowed and he felt his Adam's apple press the blade as it shifted. "…You told me not to take a step," he said, earning a faint sigh from the one holding the knife.

"I-…" He made a short, irritated sound, "just don't move, okay?" He asked, obviously inexperienced with these sorts of situations. Attackers generally aren't polite. Remi's shoulders and neck loosened now. This guy wasn't going to hurt him, he knew that. He sounded scared. Yet still… That voice, and now behavior.. It felt familiar. It felt… Oh, **fuck**.

"Follows-Chalk?" The knife pulled back.

"M-mister Remissum?" Definitely Follows-Chalk. "I'm sorry! I thought you were another bandit.." He apologized, sheathing the hunting knife in his belt. His shoulders were raised high as if he were still nervous and on-edge.

"Another?" Remi repeated, now able to turn his head and stare at Follows-Chalk, who looked a mess. His skin was dirty and signature headdress was covered in a thick blanket of dust. His fingertips were faintly stained with dry blood. "The fuck are you doing out here, Chalk? Does Graham know you're out this far from camp?" He demanded, leaving his previous statement to the wind. He didn't sound directly angry, but he did sound undoubtably displeased. Perhaps concerned.

Follows-Chalk made a quiet whimper and looked away, toward the floor of the cave, which was now completely dark as the sun had shifted just enough to neglect the cave of its light. "He… He knows that I am away, yes," Follows-Chalk began, trying and evidently failing to side-step admitting he left camp without telling Joshua he would be traveling this far out. He seemed to flinch as Remi grumbled, dissatisfied with that response.

"You know it's a _terrible_ idea to lie to him, Chalk," Remi said, and saw the Dead Horse before him open his mouth once again to speak, however he cut him off as he continued, "you're coming with me now. I don't know how well you got out here alone, and I don't care, but you sure as hell aren't going back alone," he growled, "I'm on my way to Zion now. Only reason I stopped was because of your stu-"

"My distress signals, I know. I was hoping you would see them," he interrupted, "I… did not draw them for myself, though," he confessed, voice strained and slow, which made Remi's expression falter. Rather than verbalizing his intentions of the SOS, Follows-Chalk stepped away and sank into the pitch-black back end of the cave. Remi heard the quiet shuffling of skin against the sandy stone floor as Follows-Chalk moved about. He returned walking much slower, more weighed down, with… _Fuck._

A Dead Horses scout. In his arms, unconscious. Covered in bloodied bandages and too many bruises to count. Remi's brows raised and quickly furrowed again at the sight. He remained silent for a few moments, and resisted the urge to snap at Follows-Chalk at this point. He wanted to smack the damn kid upside his head. Remi stepped closer to Follows-Chalk, nearly up against him, and taking,_ forcing_, the injured tribal into his own arms. It wasn't that his trust for Chalk was broken, however it was.. stained. He thought it best he assume responsibility for the wounded man for as of this moment. As of seeing the trouble Chalk had gotten him into. Follows-Chalk didn't put up any resistance when Remi took the man. He gave him up willingly, if anything; as if he were grateful for Remi's assuming temporary care of the tribesman.

Remi's eyes cast between the man he held and to Follows-Chalk one last time before he sucked in a long, deep breath, and spoke with his exhale. "We'll talk-_ with Joshua_- once we're back. Right now I don't even fucking want to know what the hell you did," he said, turning around to face the exit of the cave before Follows-Chalk even had the opportunity to speak, much less protest.

Earlier, Remi was merely agitated and concerned over his tribal friend, but now- now he was mad. Genuinely angry. How did Follows-Chalk manage to get himself into shit like this? As far as Remi knew as of this moment, the man in his arms had the potential to be either just a matter of several Stims, or on the brink of death. In the wasteland, even the smallest wounds can count, depending on who or what you got them from. Follows-Chalk better have some hell of a convincing story as to how all this came to be. Remi lay the outed man on one of the benches within the caravan, and took a seat at his feet. Follows-Chalk sat directly opposite of him. The two seemed to mirror each other's posture; sitting slumped forward, forearms set against their knees, and heads low.

For the remaining hours of the trip, none of them would speak. Not the caravan driver, not Remi, nor Follows-Chalk. They all sat in a continuous, enveloping silence, one which each of them had a different reason for contributing to. Chalk's being shame, Remi's being pent up aggression, and the driver's being indifference. The only notable sound to break their silence was that of Remi's lighter flicking open and snapping closed seconds later as he lit a cigarette which he'd placed between his lips. The distracting curls of smoke which would cascade from his lips for the next set of breaths would at least shift the men's focuses. Momentarily.

The caravan reached Zion in the earliest hours of morning, before the sun had the chance to breach the high canyon walls. They entered Dead Horse camp not long following, and at the hour Remi and Follows-Chalk arrived, most of the camp was still asleep or otherwise silent. Inactive.

All save for Joshua Graham, of course.

Remi lingered at the entrance of Angel Cave. He flicked his cigarette onto the ground and pressed it into the dirt by the heel of his boot before entering. Alone, for the time being. Follows-Chalk wished to stay outside until he was instructed to do otherwise. Remi wouldn't object. He "wanted to stay with his friend," the wounded tribal.

Inside, the cave was dimly lit; darker than in the active hours of the day, and Dead Horses covered the sleeping matts spotted throughout the chamber. He passed them by quickly, heading directly for Joshua's own section of the cave. While the main room was relatively dark, Joshua's was quite the opposite. The torches in his chamber were still as bright and as flickering with live light as ever. Not unexpected in Joshua's regards. He started his days early and ended them late. Remi figured he was already up inspecting guns. Or something else Joshua-like.

At that, he would be correct. Upon entering the chamber, Joshua immediately came into the center of his vision. He sat at his desk in the middle of the room, working with .45 auto pistols in the same practiced, perfected manner he always did. New, clean, white bandages covering his damaged skin seemed oddly illuminated by the light of the torches surrounding him. He practically glowed. He was aware of Remi's entering the room, however he didn't even make the slightest movement to acknowledge such. His hands continued to move in quiet, routine patterns. They _never_ faltered. The way his hands moved was an art in itself.

Remi would be forced to walk close enough to a point at which he could press his hands onto Graham's desk, or reach across it and grab his attention by other means. He hated when Joshua did this. When he _didn't react_. It made him burn like radioactive fire, despite being such a small thing. Joshua had this certain… silent form of manipulation that he used on Remi. And only Remi. Because it only worked on Remi. No one else in the Mojave was as bothered by compete _silence_ as Remi was, and Joshua seemed as if he had grown aware of that, and knew how to exploit it.

Remi slammed his hands, palms down, onto Joshua's desk, sending a thick vibration through the wooden planks of the table and through each of his guns. Yet still, no reaction from Joshua. Not even a fucking flinch. He proceeded to work on his weaponry as usual. Unaltered. Remi's nostrils flared as he released a deep, frustrated sigh. "I brought your fucking kids back." Referring to Joshua's men. It pissed him off even more that it was him that had to break the silence. It was typical of Joshua to remain silent long enough for Remi to lose his tolerance, because he knew it didn't take long for that to happen.

Remi was too easy for him.

"Was it necessary I was informed?" Even if Josh's returned wits didn't make Remi happy, he was at least appeased by the sound of Joshua's voice. There were times when in a situation like this, Joshua would remain in complete silence until Remi was practically behaving like an obedient dog. _Too easy._ "I trusted Follows-Chalk to his own devices. Any trouble he's gotten himself into is at his own fault," he said solemnly, eyes still keenly focused at the gun in his hands. That was another thing that would crawl under Remi's skin. Joshua was perfectly capable of engaging in conversation meanwhile never maintaining eye contact. He didn't like it. He felt as if the conversation couldn't be focused if Joshua never made eye contact. Which was odd, because he didn't feel that way about anyone else. In fact, the matter of eye contact never even crossed his mind around anyone else. Perhaps it was simply the notion that _everyone else_ made eye contact, and it was only _Joshua_ who didn't, so he only noticed it in Joshua. Only grew irritated with it in Joshua.

"Kid didn't just get _himself_ into trouble, though." Joshua's hands paused, "I found him outside Zion with another Dead Horse. The one with him got attacked by…" he hesitated, "somethin'," his tone raised at that final word, laced with uncertainty. Because, really, he didn't know what had attacked that tribal. Being hazed by annoyance and anger toward Follows-Chalk aside, he hand't gotten a good look at his wounds, as Follows-Chalk had already dressed them by the time the two were found, so as of the current moment all he knew was that he was, quite frankly, pretty fucked up. And unconscious. In front of him, Joshua dropped his gun onto the table and cast his slate blue eyes up at him. It's a shame it took the threat of his men being injured for him to finally make eye contact. 'Guess that's just what's really matters to him.

"Something?" He repeated. He already sounded irritated. "How bad are his wounds?" Now concerned.

"Chalk's already got 'em bandaged up, so I'm not sure. I can tell you there were quite a few of them, though. A couple looked pretty nasty, too," he replied,_ nasty_ being a synonym for _big_. Joshua's hands impatiently twitched against his desk. He was waiting for something in particular to be said. "..The hurt one's still out cold, but Chalk's up. Seems like something scared the shit out of him, but he's up," Remi added.

"Where is he?" There we go. He found what he was looking for. At that, it clicked for Remi that Joshua probably wanted to find Follows-Chalk and lecture him on his poor actions as punishment for what he's done. …Now, generally, yes, a lecture doesn't sound much like a worthy punishment for nearly killing another member of your tribe, but a lecture from Joshua Graham, on the other hand, is a more than worthy punishment.

Graham stood from his chair and faced Remi eye-to-eye. The piercing look in his eyes which he passed on insisted he answer clearly. Any side-stepping would come with an immediate consequence. But, more than that, the look in his eyes seemed.. _aggressive_. Like that of a hunting Deathclaw.

Well, Chalk's really got something coming for him now. Joshua Graham is a man to fear when he's _angry_.

"..Just outside."

The remainder of the night became a blur from there on out. Remi could recall Joshua casting him off to a bed, telling- well, more so _commanding_- him to get some rest. Because "he had a long trip." Right. What bullshit. Nice as that gesture was, Remi knew well enough Joshua only wanted him to be out of the way when he left to talk to Follows-Chalk. Despite Remi having absolutely no intent or even need to sleep, …he listened. He was intimidated by Graham, to say the least. Whether or not he would ever admit that, the fact of the matter still stood.

Now, about eight AM in Dead Horse camp, Remi sat at the edge of the shallow pool of water which hugged the camp's border. The sun just barely peeked over the canyon walls by this time, spilling only slivers of light into camp. Behind him, he heard Joshua arise from Angel Cave and walk up behind him. He immediately knew it was Joshua due to the sound of his boots tapping the clayish soil underfoot, unlike the generally bare-footed tribals. He sat a few inches from him on the ground, moving stiffly as he did so. Somewhat due to restriction from his bandages, somewhat due to fatigue. Joshua could act as if little to no sleep didn't bother him all he wanted, however it was no secret that it did effect him.

"Yao Guai," Joshua began, casting a glance at Remi, "one of their cubs attacked Follows-Chalk and his friend. ..Fortunately, the cub's mother didn't find them," he said. "They'll both be fine. Chalk isn't leaving camp again for a while, however. He said he left because he was _following someone_," he spat those words with a certain distaste, " 'Won't tell me who, and only God knows why the hell not. In any case, I'm not going to force it out of him; I just told him as long as he's putting other lives at risk for his own pursuits, he's not leaving this camp." Joshua's voice came across low and strict, even more so than usual. This didn't come as a surprise to Remi. Joshua came to care deeply for his tribe and their well being, especially after their endeavor with the White Legs. He was also probably on-edge about his tribe now more than ever, what with the Legion now posing a potential threat to Zion.

Remi remained quiet, fingers subtly ticking involuntarily in his lap, as if.. _nervous._ He turned to look directly at Joshua, who had already moved his gaze away to stare down at the water before his feet.

They both began to share this tense, brooding silence together, as if there were a worrisome thought that had crossed the both of their minds, however neither of them were prepared to verbalize it.

But, alas, Remi found the unsaid, the silence, worse than the words. "You think there's any way he was following one of their couriers?" There was no need to define who _their_ referred to. Joshua would know. He already knew.

"…Unfortunately." They sat in silence.


	3. Chapter 2

_Hello, again, and welcome to chapter two. I hope everybody's doing well, and all I have to leave as a note this update is a link.(or, well.. kind of. doesn't seem to like links.) I figured I'd doodle up a vague appearance reference for our dear courier, Remi. Go to imgur . com & add /MckIKpc . png_

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From here, they could only descend deeper into the purpose of Remi's visit to Zion. Or, so they intended.

After the noon sun finally breached the canyon walls, Joshua and Remi began preparation for a long trek, intended to span all the way through Zion's Grand Staircase and back. They were doing this so that they could scout the area for Legionary couriers, or at least for signs of said couriers having passed through recently. However, they only intended to _scout_ for them. For the time being, they wouldn't make an attempt to capture a Legionary; not until Joshua had a set-in-stone plan to do so. Joshua wouldn't ever intentionally engage in a potential attack which he hadn't planned for himself. He was somewhat paranoid, in that sense, but more so he was just.. meticulous. Always abiding by rules and lessons ingrained into his thought process. His natural leadership-oriented mentality and favoring for complete order made him nothing but resent disorganized, freelancing objectives.

So, if they weren't even going to engage a Legionary, in the case they did find one in Zion, why not send a group of Dead Horse scouts instead of themselves?

Simple.

Joshua has faith in his own skills more than anyone else's. He's trusted that if anyone could track a Legion man, it would be a former Legion man. ..More than that, in fact. A former Legion _Legate. _The co-founder of the entirety of Caesar's twisted cult.

Joshua had a familiarity with the Legion's tactics that by now, years after putting the Legion behind him, felt merely like instinct to him. He knew how they moved, how they fought, how they planned, how they communicated.. Hell, he even knew how they fled. Seeking them out would be easier for him than anyone else in Zion.

The only reason now was the first time Joshua was going _Legion hunting_ was, quite frankly, because of Remi's presence. Remi had an acute knowledge of the Legion, though perhaps lesser so than Joshua, he was still less ignorant of the Legion's whereabouts than the Dead Horses were. Traveling together, they should be more than capable and finding a Legionary, and even as far as being capable of defending themselves from a Legionary; should that situation arise.

Put simply, Joshua had held out on conducting a search himself until he had Remi accompanying him in Zion.

Remi armed himself with a .45 and his brass knuckles, while Joshua only two pistols of the same variety. That alone may sound like very little in comparison to the fierce adversaries native to Zion, however with Remi's raw strength and Joshua's impeccable aim, they would be perfectly fit to navigate the canyon. ..This is all coming from_ their _point of view, of course. Both Remi and Joshua suffered a minor, however permanent, installment of _arrogance. _It was lesser in Joshua than Remi, though still present nevertheless.

As the two departed from camp, Remi caught the familiar gaze of Follows-Chalk piercing through his leather jacket and onto his skin. The look in his eyes wasn't sad, nor angry, nor even apologetic, which was the most expected out of Follows-Chalk. It was _envious. _Remi knew of Follows-Chalk's idolization of Joshua, though he hadn't quite expected Chalk to still want to be in Graham's company after last night. Remi supposed he was a very forgiving person, but.. Wouldn't he want to stay out of Joshua's way until their tension subsided? Perhaps..

Perhaps Chalk wanted to take part in scouting and eventually capturing a Legion courier. Perhaps he wanted Remi's position. Why? So that he could impress Joshua? That seemed to be the most plausible.

It mattered not now. They passed by Chalk and headed out of camp within a matter of seconds. Neither of them offered a word to him in the process of doing so. No goodbyes.

They walked in silence for an undesirably long period of time. Joshua seeing no reason to speak, and Remi being void of things to say. He knew he'd only lose Joshua's interest further if he tried to make some kind of.. small talk.. sort of thing. This silence didn't last for too long however, as it was only a matter of time before Remi _had_ to break through the still air between them.

"When's the last time your scouts spotted a Legion dog?" He asked, flicking his eyes over at Graham for only a moment.

"Two weeks." His reply was short, tense, straight to the point. No interest in conversation.

"'Hate to make assumptions, but.. Follows-Chalk called 'em in, didn't he?" He asked. He had a growing suspicion of Chalk's involvement with this little investigation of theirs regarding the Legion. Joshua seemed as if he had almost stopped in his steps at Remi's question. He sighed. The sound was soft and muffled through the bandages covering his mouth.

"..Yes. Follows-Chalk has spotted the last _three, _in fact," Graham said it as if he were confessing to something. "These all being spaced out between several weeks; in one case ranging to months," he elaborated, "bear in mind, Remi, Follows-Chalk is one of our most talented scouts. He shows ample potential and dedication to whatever cause is at hand. I told him to seek out Caesar's couriers; that's what he did." A hefty compliment to give to someone he just spend the morning ridiculing. Goes to show the extent of Joshua's mutual respect for his men and their strongpoints, .. however, also how he doesn't take pity on anyone. For anything. He believes in giving consequence where consequence is due. ..Per example, the execution of Salt-Upon-Wounds.

"Dedication is right," Remi's lips curled into a smile, "looks like he took _that_ far enough to get his buddy mauled by a fucking bear," he made a short chuckle following his words. He acted as if now that the matter of Follows-Chalk getting another Dead Horse wounded had passed, it had become something crudely _comedic._ Joshua glared at him momentarily. A warning shot, per say.

Joshua never quite took interest in Remi's sense of humor, which was often laced with passive-aggression and vulgarity, and even less so in the mockery of his tribe. Or really anything he harbors a strong respect or care for, at that. Remi was perfectly aware of both of these things, he just doesn't mind walking on thin ice with Joshua like this. He holds the personal belief that he isn't afraid of Joshua- though this is only partially true. Remi isn't afraid of Joshua when he doesn't have those _Deathclaw eyes. _Like the ones he used on Follows-Chalk. Remi doesn't fear Joshua only when he exhibits a calm and collected exterior, such as the one he carried now. Such as the one he's been carrying since he returned from lecturing Chalk early this morning.

Remi let them fall silent once again. He didn't want to follow up on that joke and humor the possibility of pissing Joshua off. This round of silence didn't last nearly as long as the previous. Around ten minutes, or so. Rem swallowed thickly, making his Adam's apple bounce as he cleared his throat. "You.. uh.. You and your guys haven't tried confronting one of the couriers yet, have you?" He asked, focusing intently on Joshua's expression as they continued to walk. That was such an.. Unusual question to ask. What did it matter if they'd encountered a Legionary? Thus far, he already knew Graham hadn't done anything to agitate the Legion, and nor did his men. It wasn't any of his concern. It didn't directly effect anything. it didn't matter.

This occurred to Joshua immediately, and he found himself at a loss as to why Remi wanted that information. He met Remi's paler blue eyes with his own. Joshua's eyes were dark. More focused and calculating. Remi's were simply waiting and watching for an answer. "..It's not-" he paused as he noticed Remi's expression falter at the slightest indication he wouldn't be receiving an actual answer. Which, in itself, was something rare from Joshua. He usually answered everything as he saw fit. And necessary. Within a second's notice, he started again, "no, not yet. I avoid them. I tell the Dead Horses to avoid them," he replied promptly, and immediately after, shifted his eyes away. He focused his gaze out in front of him once again. By now, they were nearly to the Sorrow's camp, and had just passed what that tribe knew as the "lair of She." Some cave they believed to be inhabited with a Yao Guai ghost. Or something. Probably something their drug-induced shaman _"discovered"._

"..Right," he acknowledged the reply, "okay." And that was that. He wouldn't say why he had requested that information, and Joshua wouldn't ask. There was a tension that began to build from there, however, as now Joshua had a new suspicion pointed in Remi's direction.

Remi drew in a long breath, taking a long pause as if in preparation to speak again. He wouldn't look at Joshua this time. "And.." Joshua's eyes fixed loosely on him. "Aside from you n'the Horses, nobody else knows I'm here, in Zion, ..right?" He asked. Joshua's suspicion would continue to rise ever so steadily. For what purpose was he asking these things? What significance did the answers to these questions hold?

"Daniel is aware, and therefore as are the Sorrows," he replied cleanly. His tone gave absolutely no revelation of his questioning Remi.

"And that's it?"

"Yes, that's it. News within Zion has a tendency to remain within Zion." A brief nod.

"Right." The same tone as before. The same blank acknowledgement of the answer as before. The same concealing tone which neglected to reveal anything in regards to why Remi was asking Joshua these things.

"Okay."

Their walk from there on out was painfully uneventful and, not surprisingly, meaningless. Remi would ask Joshua simple questions every now and again, like how Bighorner season was or some shit like that, just to avoid a stiff, indifferent silence from forming too thickly between them; though they never found themselves in a real, in depth conversation. This wouldn't come as a surprise. Neither Joshua nor Remi were very gifted in engaging in conversation, 'lest they had a reason other than merely breaking ice for it.

Remi and Joshua made it back to Dead Horse camp just before sunset graced Zion with its fuchsia-orange light. They both wore a drab, tired look on their faces that could only translate to "unfulfilled." It was much more evident on Joshua, whose shoulders also seemed to be slumping lower than usual. Much lower, considering he _usually_ walked with a tall, proud, and intimidating stature similar to that of a… a Legion legate. This simple difference in posture made him seem almost entirely different to Remi. With him tired, and somehow for once physically expressing that tiredness, he looked.. Vulnerable. Weakened. To a degree.. This is still _Joshua Graham._

They hadn't found any traces of Legion in the area. Fucking nothing. The first time Joshua and The legendary Mojave Courier themselves hunt for Legionaries, they find none. Not even as much as a footprint, a piece of their iconic red fabric, a rumor passed throughout the canyon tribals.. Nothing. They came out even more empty handed than they'd went in.

Just their luck.

By the time they returned to camp, it seemed as if the tribals were ending their day as little activity filled the area. Most of the tribals were probably either inside Angel Cave, or already curled up in a bedroll somewhere. Joshua took no time crossing Dead Horse camp to leave the Eastern Virgin behind and disappear into Angel Cave himself. He hadn't even said a word to Remi before doing so, though this fact didn't slow Remi in even the slightest sense as he followed after Graham. Remi caught up to Josh just in time to see him take a seat back at his desk in the center of his chambers. His chest slowly rose and fell with a deep sigh. This was sort of Joshua's way of saying he was done for today, that he was no longer interested in much of anything for the remainder of the night, aside from maybe guns. ..Back to his self-given chores, as usual.

Remi wasn't about to just take that as it was and leave Joshua be, alone in his section of the cave. Of course not. He dragged a chair from a small table off to the side of Joshua's room and sat it on the opposite side of Graham's desk at which he was sitting. Remi dropped himself into the seat and leaned over the table, propping his elbows on the wood. All the while, Joshua went about inspecting his guns. Again. Like always. No fucking surprise.

This was his way of being "distant." Remi couldn't stand it. He was being completely, intentionally silent again.

"Not even gonna stay and watch the sunset with me?" Remi pulled a short grin over his cheeks. It was intended to be somewhat playful, though the differing look in his eyes seemed to cut that portrayal short. His eyes showed his concern, his fatigue, and his persistence in gaining Joshua's attention; which all contradicted the forced intention of the smirk. Joshua wouldn't notice either of these things, however, as his eyes would focus strongly on the gun he'd taken into his hands.

"No." He tone was surprisingly low. Can't even take a joke tonight, can he? Well.. Not that he ever really takes jokes, but, in any case.. "I can't focus out there. I can focus here," he said as an audible_ click_ sounded from the gun he held, and he set it aside. Finished and satisfied with it. Before he could pick up the next gun, he looked forward to Remi. Finally. His hands would stop there and fold over one another, dropping against the table. Something he saw in his opposition's stare would stop him from picking up another pistol.

"Right. Guns help you focus." Remi's eyes flicked down at Joshua's hands, silently appreciating their stillness, then returning to the slate-y blue eyes ahead of him. He was surprised Joshua had decided to set aside his guns without any real persuasion. He was also silently thankful for such.

"They do." Rem chuckled briefly at that response. His shoulders slumped as they subtly began to relax. Joshua was tense, but at least now Remi knew he wasn't angry. They both consecutively fell silent for a few moments. Maybe even a minute or two. Remi eventually leaned back in his chair and somewhat straightened his spine against the wood.

"Well, if we aren't gonna watch the sunset… I got other means of relaxing," he half-mumbled. He took one hand off the table and reached into one of his jacket pockets, where he first retrieved a shiny metal lighter, then a pack of cigarettes following that. He plucked out a single cigarette from the small carton before lightly tossing the box onto the table, still open. He held the cigarette between his fingers and cast his eyes at Graham, then gave a faint nodding gesture to the box. " 'Fraid you're gonna have to obstruct your bandaids, Josh." He grinned. Genuinely grinned. Joshua, on the other hand, only furrowed his brows. Joshua didn't smoke. Not anymore, at least.

"Remi, I've told you before, I don't-"

"C'mon.." He interrupted, speaking smoothly along a drawn-out exhale, tilting his head and pulling a brighter smile, which tipped his mustache in the most charming of ways. "I don't pay you visits often. Humor me."

Joshua sighed. He was right, at that. It had been _months_ since Remi was last in Zion, and even then his and Remi's meeting was very brief. Beginning very slowly, Joshua picked his arms up off the table and reached his hands behind his head, where his bandages tied together, and slowly, cautiously, began to unravel them. He had several "sections" of bandages along his body. Those being his head, arms, legs, and torso. Each section of bandage was separate, so that mobility was least limited and so that they were at their easiest to remove.

Joshua was very careful and slow about removing the bandages from his face, which he proceeded to remove entirely. Underneath, his originally tanned ivory skin was riddled with those terrible burn scars he sustained some number of years ago. Remi's smile faded. It was only just now, in the moment, when Joshua finished taking off the wraps from his head, did he realize he… he had never_ actually_ seen Josh's face until now. He fell completely silent, eyes focused completely on the burned man before him. It was as if he was trying to mentally form a map of Joshua's face now that he could see it. In full. Discover and remember every groove while he had the opportunity.

Joshua's eyes.. they seemed less dull gray-blue without the bandages. They seemed just.. _Blue._ Much brighter than Remi's own, in fact. Perhaps Joshua's eyes were never semi-gray, and it was just that his bandages constantly dulled them. Obstructed their color.

That was.. What a shame.

"I hope you don't ask me to smile." It was odd watching Joshua's lips move as he spoke, rather than just hearing him through that white fabric covering his mouth. His voice, also, sounded so much crisper and clearer now. Even deeper. Not even slightly muffled to Remi's ears. ..But, even more odd that that, or Joshua's eyes, or Joshua's skin, or Joshua's lips, or anything.. Graham just _made a joke._ A self-deprecated one, at that, but nevertheless. Huh. Looks like his sense of humor didn't die with his hope for Caesar's Legion.

Remi's smile finally returned and he set his hand atop the cigarette box, sliding it across the table, closer to Joshua. Joshua picked one from the box. Set it between his scarred lips. Remi held his own cigarette lightly between his teeth, flicked his lighter open, and held the new born flame up to the tip until soft wisps of smoke arose from it. He reached across the table and held the lighter below Joshua's in the same manner he had done to his own.

Joshua's eyes closed momentarily. He drew in a deep inhale. Exhaled. His eyes reopened. It'd been years since Joshua last smoked, and especially in such a relaxed manner such as this. Generally if he ever did smoke back then, it was as a means to relieve stress. It was very rarely quite as pleasant as this.

Remi watched as blooms of smoke rose and dissolved into the still cave air around them. He grinned and looked to Joshua, whose posture was looser and more relaxed. Much different from usual. Even more so different from what he usually _wanted_ people to see. "Nice, ain't it?"

"It's.." He paused, breathing out another stream of pale grey. "Yeah.. It's nice." Even the way he spoke was more relaxed and less formal, less serious, than what was normal for him.

"Better than your damn guns?" He grunted a momentary chuckle.

"That's pushing it." Remi's grin grew wide enough to bare teeth. It made him surprisingly happy to see Joshua this different. This unraveled. This bare, unguarded, and calm.

After that, the two of them would somehow manage to enjoy silence together. Because this silence wasn't Joshua's abuse of Remi's tolerance; it was the two of them contently sharing each other's company without a need for words. They would remain in this tranquil silence 'till their cigarettes met their end. At which point, Joshua was leaning back in his seat, eyes half-lidded and dim. He looked calm enough to a point at which he might even fall asleep.

Remi cleared his throat, catching Joshua's attention as well as his blue eyes with the sudden sound. _Now. Now's perfect time,_ he thought."Hey.. Josh.. I gotta.. Gotta tell you something," he cast his own gaze up to meet Graham's. Joshua's expression immediately lost a bit of its casualness. He seemed more intent. Focused. In the sense that he was keenly listening. "I can't.." Remi stopped, clearing his throat _again_, as if the words were becoming difficult to formulate, "I can't stay long. Only a week, then I have to.."

"One week?" Joshua interrupted. His brows had furrowed. That relaxed, pleasant expression upon his face was beginning to reduce now. "It isn't possible to get done what we need done in a week." Remi was perfectly aware of that. It was simply that the reason for which he was leaving was even more so impatient than Joshua and his own cause was.

"I know. I only need to be back in New Vegas for a couple of days," he explained, "we'll start work again when I get back." He promised.

"A couple of days in New Vegas amounts to weeks away from Zion, Remi," Joshua's tone became lower. Stricter. Still lesser so than usual, but it was less hospitable than it was while they were smoking.

"I know.."

"What fucking business is so urgent that you have to leave Zion?" Irritation laced his tone now. He couldn't quite piece it together why Remi was leaving so soon, and especially why he hadn't brought this to Joshua's attention at some earlier date. "And why wasn't this taken into consideration before you came to Zion to begin with?"

"I thought it'd be better to be 'round a week, be gone a week, then come back instead'a postponing a whole month," he said, trying to sound as if he took the traveling time from New Vegas to Zion into consideration. Also meanwhile dodging the question of _why_ he was going on this short excursion back to the heart of The Mojave. He only hoped Joshua wouldn't ask again.

"Right." Joshua's shoulders seemed to have tensed. "And this wasn't something you felt you should've mentioned earlier, at the least?" _Thank God._ He didn't ask again.

"I thought it could wait, yeah," Remi gave a short, rolling shrug of his shoulders.

Joshua sighed and leaned back in his chair. No direct reply. He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. He seemed visually, physically irritated and under stress now. Even more stress than usual, actually. Which came to no surprise, because now any attempts he _could_ be making against the Legion couriers after this week would have to be put off. Ignored. He could only hope he and Remi got lucky and managed to intercept a Legionary this week, before Remi "has to leave." And even in the case they do capture a Legionary, Joshua may have to either carry out the majority of his plan by himself, or hold the courier for an entire week longer than expected.

Either that, or he take no action at all until _after_ Remi leaves and returns. Which amounts to about a two to three week setback. Two-to-three weeks he'd have to spend letting any and all valuable Legion couriers pass right through Zion as they so pleased.

Joshua seemed bitter again as he thought these things over. Which was anticipated. This was far from good news.. It came as no surprise Joshua didn't take kindly to it. In truth, though, Remi had decided to tell Joshua now, specifically, rather than any other time because he had wanted to tell him while he was at his most relaxed. He wanted to tell him when there was least potential of getting those _Deathclaw eyes._

Which, fortunately, it didn't seem like he was going to get them. As of the current moment.

"Look, Josh, I'm sorry." Remi exhaled deeply as he spoke.

Joshua's eyes fixated on Remi. Cold and hard. Brooding. For only a matter of seconds, though it felt like minutes. His expression seemed raw and even more intimidating without bandages covering the majority of his face. Joshua's emotions were so much more amplified without that layer of white.. "I will define the truth in that based on your actions." And he left the table. Fed up with this conversation. Fed up with this painful interruption in his plans. Fucking fed up with Remi. Earlier it was those questions, now this bullshit. It was flustering Joshua.

Joshua walked out of his quarters with his shoulders squared and tense, posture held tall. Intimidating. Like usual. Remi, of course, followed after him, catching up quickly and walking closely behind him. What the fuck is he doing? Leaving? To where? "Where are you going?" Remi demanded, matching Joshua's pace and beginning to walk by his side. Not too closely, however. Joshua avoided eye contact and kept his eyes focused ahead as he walked for the entrance of Angel Cave. Joshua didn't reply to Remi's question, only kept walking. Remi wasn't about to let him just leave. He repeated his question again.

No reply, again.

They were nearly through the first section of the cave. Approaching the entry. As a last resort, before Joshua could walk out of the cave and leave, Remi reached out and gripped his forearm. Tight. His hand wrapped around bandages, which themselves were enveloping skin and such significant muscle. Joshua jolted at this and_ glared_ back at him. He was forced to stop walking, and yanked his arm in the opposite of Remi's direction in an attempt to free himself, though Remi held his grip.

"Let go," he growled. He just seemed to be getting angrier. Nearly every trace of that previous relaxed expression had dissolved.

"_No,_" Remi hissed back, "not until you tell me where you're trying to go," he spat, staring back at Joshua. Challenging him. He'd try his best not to show weakness as he was confronted by the gaze of the infamous Burned Man, in his full, furious glory for which he was known.

"I don't think I owe you the luxury of answering that," he replied, lip curling as anger continued to build up, like water filling a drowning man's lungs. Quickly. Aggressively. Involuntarily. Remi squeezed his digits tighter around Joshua's arm. "Now _let go,_" he demanded.

"No." He outright refused; Joshua wasn't going anywhere as long as he had anything to do with it. ..Where would he go if he did manage to leave, anyway? Would he just go wander around Zion? Go fucking tackle a Yao Guai to get his frustration out?

Joshua practically boiled now. Remi wasn't letting him go, and that infuriated him. He stared at Remi still, now only with more anger filling his eyes 'till they were all the way to the brim. He gave another sharp yank of his arm, at which Remi responded with shoving closer to Joshua, grasping his arm tighter. He could feel Remi's fingers pressing shallow indents into his skin.

That was it. He'd done it. He pushed Joshua to the extent of breaking something through him.

_Deathclaw eyes._

"Let. Go." He said it slower, speaking through what were now clenched teeth as he resisted snapping at Remi. Though snapping, now, was all but painfully imminent. Like a branch bent nearly to its breaking point. One more pull, and…

"No!"

_Crack._ The branch would fall.

An immense, quickly spreading pain flooded through the right side of Remi's jaw. He was forced to let go of Joshua's arm as he stumbled backward, nearly falling if it weren't for his feet just barely catching their bearings. He spat a combination of blood and saliva onto the cave floor.

Remi barely managed to stand up straight again before he felt Joshua's hands gripping his jacket on either side of his neck, just under the collar, balling his hands into fists around the leather. He shoved Remi against the cave wall. Hard. Hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He pinned him there, pressing himself closely so that Remi was given the least amount of room to counter his move. He did all of this as if the prospect of leaving Angel Cave had slipped his mind, and the sudden surge of anger racking through him hazed his mind and guided his actions. Forgetting his previous intentions. Only caring about Remi. Quartering Remi against the wall like this was practically an instinctive reaction, product of his hostility.

Remi would struggle, but he wouldn't throw any punches in return to Joshua. He'd just get his face even more fucked up that way. Joshua was a fierce, persistent fighter. Needless to say, years of service as the acting Legate of a certain faction which specialized in hand-to-hand rendered Joshua a much better equip fighter. Remi _knew_ he'd lose. So, what? He just idle against the wall and fall limp for Joshua? Of course not. He struggled and squirmed against Joshua's grip simply to show defiance, at this point. He couldn't give up, but he also couldn't_ win._

Joshua and Remi's eyes locked as Graham held him against the wall. Neither of their eyes showed anything that was even slightly willing to surrender. Completely expected. Joshua's anger was incredibly pronounced and vivid without his bandages; Remi could see every last inch of his face and how it twisted with negativity. Every last groove, crevice, and curve.. How it moved with his anger. Jaggedly flowed with it. Joshua brought himself closer to Remi, whose chin tipped up as he did so, as to maintain full eye contact. "If you may leave the canyon on some unknown bullshit agenda, I can take a fucking walk without telling you where I'm going," he hissed lowly. Remi's expression faltered. Lost some of its intensity. Joshua seemed actually somewhat.. hurt.

He stopped struggling. Joshua didn't stop holding him against the wall, however. He still looked undeniably furious, staring directly at Remi, barely a couple inches from his face at this point. His eyes never faltered once. Didn't even blink. He was locked with Remi's gaze so strictly and unwaveringly because he was waiting. Waiting for Remi to say something to him in return. Something angry, or witty, or rude, or for God's sake, even something stupid. But…

Nothing.

Remi didn't say a word; just stared right back at Joshua. And Joshua wouldn't say anything to try and prod Remi to speak. That sort of thing just wasn't in his nature, no matter any amount of burning anger that could overtake the expanse of his skin. This silence first lasted seconds, which eventually escalated to minutes as neither of them made an effort to break it. Perhaps they didn't know how to break it. Perhaps they didn't want to. Remi could hear the steepness in Joshua's previously uneven, deep breaths reduce through the silence as it progressed. He listened to that particular rhythm long enough for his own breaths to begin to match Joshua's, inhaling and exhaling in time with him. Through all of this, despite Joshua's anger obviously beginning to die down, his grip on Remi's jacket didn't loosen. It endured.

Until he finally looked away from Remi. He shot his eyes downwards, escaping Remi's gaze, and let go. All at once, and took a step back. Remi nearly stumbled again as all of his weight was returned to him, and the pressure of Joshua's hands pressing him to the wall was gone. His own gaze faltered and when he looked back up, he felt a certain pain in himself to find Joshua's blue eyes evading his.

Joshua left to walk out of the cave from there, leaving Remi stood against the wall. Moving at a slower pace, his shoulders high, though head angled low. As to avoid eye contact. Remi wouldn't object this time as Graham left. He had nothing to say that posed good argument for him to stay. Graham held a painfully sharp point that Remi had no place stopping him, what with him leaving for some cause unknown to Joshua at the end of this week.

Neither of them would say a word.


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello, everyone! Well, the bi-weekly updates have begun, and I give you Chapter three. I hope you all enjoy and have a wonderful rest of your week._

_**Also, next update may be a bit delayed on account of a 5-day trip I take next week. I'll try to stay on time, though._

* * *

Joshua didn't return to camp until the following morning.

At which point, Remi was sitting on the ground just outside Angel Cave, head angled back against the stone wall, hands limp in his lap, and eyes closed. Sleeping. The way he was sitting was far from an ideal position; he'd probably wake up with even more sores than the ones he'd already gotten from Joshua. Odds were he hadn't picked that particular spot and situation for sleep. He'd, truthfully, picked it so he could wait, and watch. For Joshua to return. Graham could probably tell this right as he reentered camp, as there was little other reason for Remi to be there like that.

Joshua gave a faint sigh. He'd have to pass Remi by in order to go back into the cave, he may as well wake him up. There was no point in leaving him out here. All that would do is make him wake up later in the day, in a worse mood, and even more sore. No point. An irritable Remi is not something Josh would like to have to tolerate; and, in any case, Joshua could put an awoken Remi to good use if he tried hard enough.

He stopped at the entrance of the cave and reached his hand to his sleeping companion setting by it, then giving a short, hard flick to his forehead. At which, Remi's slow and steady breaths immediately hitched and he jolted, eyes squeezing tighter shut as he did so. A moment later, his eyes were wide open and staring up at Graham. They looked hazy and dark with fatigue, though still just awake enough to pass off a proper _go to hell_ stare. He groaned softly under his breath and rubbed a hand over his face, where he'd been flicked, leaning forward off the rocks behind him.

"God.. Good morning to you, too, asshole," he grumbled. His voice was thick and raspy with sleep; much more husky than usual. Joshua only gave an upwards tip of his chin in response; a gesture for him to stand.

"Get up off the ground," he said. His expression seemed completely frozen in a serious, stone-cold state. Not as aggressive as it was last night, though still nevertheless painted with austerity. Remi let out yet another faint groan before he, reluctantly, complied. He stood slowly and with unease, as if parts of his body were rejecting the idea and would rather he keep his place on the ground. His back and his neck were sore, as was the right side of his jaw, which was also spotted with aching shades of purple and blue. Upon fully erecting his stature, he stretched his tense shoulders by pushing them back and stretching his spine straight, which improved his posture even more so. He gave his neck a slow roll, causing it to quietly _crack. _

Remi's eyes lazily focused on Joshua, whose face was still completely without bandages and dimly lit by the morning light around them, which was glowing down in slivers because of the stark canyon walls surrounding the camp. He seemed to be minding his skin being bare surprisingly little.. Then again, perhaps the reason Josh was heading back to Angel Cave correlated with that. Remi noted bags under his eyes, indicating he most likely hadn't slept at all last night. He wondered what exactly it was Joshua had done, though odds were, he'd never find out. How frustrating. Remi had his own dark under-eyes to match, though they weren't quite as prominent as Joshua's.

Joshua gave a short gesture of his hand for Remi to follow him before continuing on making his way into the cave and eventually to his quarters. Remi followed silently. He hoped that despite Joshua obviously not being in the greatest mood this morning, he at least wasn't still angry with Remi for the night before. Well, at least not _as _angry. Joshua doesn't forget and forgive conflict so quickly.

Even after they'd entered Joshua's section of the cave, neither of them had said a word since they were outside. The only reason Remi wasn't speaking was because Joshua wasn't. Joshua wasn't speaking because he had other things aside from needless conversation on his mind. Joshua stepped over to a supplies crate setting amongst several others off to the side of his room and pulled out a roll of fresh, solid white, new bandages. He cast and quick, sharp glance at Remi before throwing the spool to him. He caught it as Joshua went to take a seat at his desk. Remi was staring at him with bright eyes and furrowed brows. After only waiting a few moments for the man to react, Joshua spoke up, "don't stand around like that, you've had experience with wrapping wounds before, I know that, you can handle _my head_," his voice was enveloped in bitterness toward Remi, despite that request in itself being quite _friendly. _Joshua always seemed to have a certain specific, precise way he put on his bandages day-in and day-out, so it was impressive to say the least he'd asked Remi to preform this task for him. Perhaps this was his way of showing forgiveness ...or maybe just his way of showing he's capable of completely tolerating Remi infringing on his normal routines.

Remi managed to crack a momentary smile. He started to unwind a short length of the bandage and wrap it around his fingers as he walked over to Joshua, and settled standing just behind him, against the back of his chair. He reached both hands in front of Joshua's face and pressed the fingertips of one hand to his cheek, causing Josh to slightly turn his head, while to other hand began covering Joshua's chin in white fabric. Warmth from the tips of Remi's fingers sank into Joshua's skin and settled there. It was a foreign feeling to him, someone else's hand on his cheek.. He felt every last detail of Remi's calloused skin, and his mind gave him a sharp, clear, and alert knowingness of the digits being present. It took a number of seconds for his mind to grow used to it and not focus on it so strongly. This relaxing faintly dulled the feeling of fingers pressing skin, though rendered no effect on the warmth. He didn't mind that.

Joshua eventually let out a long exhale through his nose and leaned his head back, making work on his face easier for Remi, who was beginning to thread bandages over his lips. Remi was actually a bit sad to be covering Joshua's face back up, truth be told. The feeling was faintly there, but, still, it was present. He found it surprisingly nice hearing Joshua's voice unmuffled and crisp, seeing how emotions projected on his face, seeing how his nose and his lips moved when he spoke, seeing his eyes bright blue and clear and without any ounce of gray and- "slow down. I would appreciate if you _didn't _suffocate me." His hands froze. He hadn't realized until Joshua spoke that was doubling his bandages, and wrapping significantly tighter than he needed to be. Guess he lost focus...

"Don't be a baby. I won't," he grunted back, leaning over Joshua's forehead as he spoke. Joshua shot his eyes up at him, brows furrowed. Irritated. Remi grinned and resumed wrapping, now only slower and more attentive. His hands shifted around Joshua's face to hold him steady as he went. The faint feeling of fingertips to skin lingered as they appeared and left Josh's skin. By the time Remi had finished and pinned the bandages in place, he could recall touches in a multitude of places. His cheek. His chin. His forehead. In the space just under his brow. There were small points on his skin where he knew warmth used to be, and felt each point try to adjust to that unfortunate loss.

After finishing completely and being satisfied with his work, Remi tossed the shortened roll of bandages onto Joshua's desk and backed up from his chair. He watched Joshua lift hands to his face to adjust parts of his bandages to _his _satisfaction. No matter how good of a job Remi might've done, it still wasn't up to Joshua's requirements. Of course. This was expected, however. There was a certain way Joshua's bandages were supposed to feel against his skin, and he'd make sure they _always_ felt that way. Nevertheless, it still pricked under Remi's skin that Joshua always had to fix these little things to exactly his liking. He wouldn't tolerate imperfections if he didn't have to.

Joshua pushed his chair back and stood, stepping around and facing Remi. His eyes were back to their usual dull blue-gray now, with the bandages back in place. "Well? How'd I do?" Remi nudged him to speak. He wouldn't have gotten up if he didn't have something to say. Otherwise he probably just would've started fixing and inspecting guns to pass time again.

"Well. You did fine," he muttered, even-toned. Remi frowned. It was unfortunate Joshua wouldn't exhibit his gratefulness even if he had felt it. Joshua took a pause before he spoke again, "…Now we need to start working." Working? "If we only have one week, we need to do as much as possible in contribution to our goal during that time," he said. It was interesting how Joshua picked his words. _Our_. To Joshua, this was just as much his responsibility as Remi's.

Joshua probably wanted to set up small Dead Horse camps around Zion so that detecting Legion troops would be easier. Joshua let out what sounded like a frustrated sigh before he continued, "it seems almost impossible we capture, interrogate, and exploit a courier in only a week," he admitted, "we'll just have to make due." He was avoiding eye contact as he spoke. Remi tried not to notice. "We'll set up scout stations around the canyon before you leave, and you and I personally are going searching for any traces of Legionaries, again." It was almost offensive to Remi how Joshua spouted plans in the form of commands, rather than requests, insinuating Remi didn't have much of choice whether or not he would be preforming these tasks.

Remi huffed under his breath. "Right, right, that's fine and dandy. No action 'till after I come back." He behaved as if he were disappointed. "Do you think Follows-Chalk is still gonna be joining the scouts you send out after his little Yao Guai tackle?" He asked. ..It was a valid question. Follows-Chalk was a fantastic tracker, however his recent fuck up and revelation of possible intrusion on Joshua's Legion hunt may make him seem like too much of a risk to take. Joshua didn't take risks 'lest he had no choice but to; especially when that risk could put his men in jeopardy.

Joshua crossed his arms and furrowed his brows. This wasn't something he wanted to make a decision on, because he knew whatever he decided would have a significant impact on his scouts. The most concerning part was that he couldn't tell what would have a positive outcome and what would have negative; letting Chalk go or forcing him to stay in camp. Graham's head tilted down, directing his eyes away from Remi as he thought.

"No," he replied tensely and with unease. "Not for the time being. He'll need to regain what trust he's lost first, then.. perhaps." Remi nodded. This was understandable, considering Joshua's value of trust and need for faith in his men.

Joshua turned back to his desk and picked up one of his .45 pistols, which had already passed his inspection, of course, and shrugged past Remi and began walking out of the room. Halfway across the chamber, he stopped and turned his head. Remi hadn't moved, 'hadn't wanted to yet. From this angle, he could perfectly see the work he'd done on Joshua's bandages.. Just above the nape of Josh's neck, Remi had bound his bandages together with a little bunny-ears bow. He'd just wanted to see it in action, and got just that as the stoic and cold Malpais Legate walked off with that cutesy bow at the back of his head. Absolutely _priceless, _even at the cost of trying Joshua's patience by just standing there.

Hopefully nobody would tell him about it..

"When I said we needed to start working, I _did _mean today," he grunted back at Remi. Such impatience.. Remi snatched another one of Joshua's pistols off his desk and holstered it before following after him, catching up quickly and slowing his pace as he settled by his companion's side.

Outside, Dead Horse camp was beginning to come to life as late morning light illuminated the clearing and reflected off the shallow water bordering the camp. The Horsemen going about their business would pause and nod a respectful greeting to Joshua as he passed them by, as they thought they were meant to. Remi lifted his chin and strode with a confident saunter, as if accompanying their highly regarded chief made _him_ feel better respected. By extension. Or something. Remi had an interesting perspective on how things such as this would, in some way, affect him in some "trickle down" effect.

Joshua stopped in the center of camp, Remi cross-armed by his side, and gave a loud, high-pitched whistle; at which the tribals halted whatever work was at hand for them and gathered around their superior. Including Follows-Chalk, who stood timidly toward the rear of the group. He probably didn't want to catch Graham's attention in even the least.

This was something they'd grown used to; Joshua beckoning them in with a single, sharp gesture like that. It was impressive how he gained attention and a commanding position so quickly, even with his past experience as a leader in mind.

The Dead Horse chief cleared his throat. "Throughout this week, I'm going to require all of you set aside your usual duties," the tribals gave little reaction as of yet, "I'm going to need all acting scouts as well as those who are not to temporarily act as scouts. You'll all be organized into small bands and placed throughout Zion for the task of spotting and reporting _anyone_ of Caesar's Legion," Joshua paused to take in reactions. Nothing severe, a few flustered faces, "mind you, this will only be for a week. You have been put under more in the past, and for longer periods of time," he stated, then concluding, "..prepare any supplies you'll need for Zion." At that, he dismissed his men with a simple, familiar wave of his hand. They dispersed as quickly as they gathered. Remi remained still by him, solemn. He was surprised Joshua didn't make some reference to how they would be "doing God's work", as he usually took a religious perspective to matters such as this.

Perhaps he believed this matter was of no concern to his faith.

"Alright, that's them; what about us?" Remi turned his eyes to Joshua, "when are we gonna go on our little Legion hike again?" He asked. Joshua offered no physical response; no rude glares or lowering eyebrows.

"Later this evening," he said and cast a glance down at The Courier's Pip-Boy 3000 clinging tight to his forearm, "_we _can search at night on account of your device and its flashlight." Joshua wasn't overly familiar with the Pip-Boy, nor any Vault Tech, for that matter, however he was well aware that Remi's little device could offer a consistent light which pre-war flashlights and ordinary torches could not. This would better enable them to search after dark while the rest of the Dead Horses were safely stowed away and asleep.

Remi cast his eyes down at the Pip-Boy, flicked the light on and off; exhibiting what Joshua had pointed out. He focused his eyes back up on Graham. "Fair enough, it's enough light to get around with, I guess," he replied simply, shrugging, confirming he had no quarrel with night-searching. "And for now?" He asked. There were still many more hours before the sun would be setting, Remi didn't doubt Joshua wouldn't be letting him lounge around camp for all that time.

"For now, I'm staying in camp to help organize scouting groups," he began, "and you.." he paused, "you can take Follows-Chalk out while I do so. Best not to force-feed that he won't be assisting his brothers." Despite the harshness of that statement, it came across with a certain sympathy coiling around it. Like he acknowledged that Follows-Chalk would be disappointed in his own actions even more so if he were around to see the scout groups be compiled before him. "Perhaps take him to some of the pre-war settlements around the canyon. He has a certain infatuation for those sorts of things," Joshua explained. Remi, at first, only let out a long exhale as a response. Disinterest and disappointment.

"Fine," he replied through minimally gritted teeth. He had little interest in exploring abandoned pre-war settlements himself, finding them no more special than the empty shacks and scrapyards scattering the Mojave, however he knew they would keep Chalk well distracted. Generally, the tribes avoided any areas of pre-war origin, believing them to be taboo, however Follows-Chalk never let himself fall to such ignorant customs given his deep-rooted interest in civilization.

"Try and keep him out long as you can; however, be back by sunset. I don't want to be waiting on you," Joshua prompted before turning on his heel and stepping away, toward the small hut where Follows-Chalk sat with his wounded friend, who was by now conscious. He said a few words to the young scout, made a gesture toward Remi with his hand, and Remi noticed something about Follows-Chalk immediately change. He smiled. His lips perked up into a short, charming, appreciative grin. It was no secret Chalk enjoyed traveling out into the canyon and exploring its every crevice, but.. it was still lingeringly hurtful to know Joshua wasn't letting him out of camp just out of the _kindness of his heart. _

Follows-Chalk stood, scooped up his beaten, dusty pre-war hat, secured it on his head, and practically hopped up to Remi's side from his tent. Well, at least he seemed happier now. Graham walked steadily behind him, casting a glance at Remi before walking off, back into Angel Cave. He'd find and rally most of his scouts within.

Remi turned and began to walk out of camp, making a short gesture for Chalk to follow as he went.

Chalk and Remi would wander for quite some time, bypassing small, vacant pre-war buildings in search of something one par above them. All the while during this, Remi whistled a high, obnoxious, and merry little tune. It kept him focused. It also kept him distracted from the constant silence native to the canyon; a beast he would trade for a Giant Gecko any day. Chalk, on the other hand, was quiet save for occasional times when he would make a comment on where the were in the canyon, or even redirect Remi if he were skewing off into some direction they shouldn't have been going. This only happened in rare cases, such as when Remi nearly approached a Yao Guai den.

Just about as the mid-noon sun drifted into position in the sky, Remi and Follows-Chalk saw the undistorted rooftop of a Ranger station peeking just over a hill and mound of boulders in their way. _Perfect. _Now, that area would be just.. perfect. Upon approaching the building and taking it in at closer range, they could see the settlement was still mostly intact. No broken, busted out walls, no unhinged doors or shattered windows, barely a plank or two missing from the porch.. A rare site within the unrelenting likes of Zion.

Remi turned back to face Follows-Chalk, grinning, "let's hope we like what we find inside," he mused. Remi strode up the two steps up onto the station porch. With Chalk in toe, he curled a hand over the doorknob, quickly twisting and shoving the door open, which cried as its old-world bones and hinges creaked. Remi took a step in. Quiet, thus far. No radios nor living beings. Dark. No lights. The cold, stagnant air swirling in short, slow currents around the room smelled faintly of rotting wood and long-dead animal remains. No surprise; this _was_ still Zion. However, also, it had a certain.. other.. unidentifiable foulness to it. One that Remi felt he was familiar with, however couldn't immediately recall. As a precaution, now with this in mind, Remi unholstered his .45 and held it in one hand by his side.

Remi and Chalk ventured further inside, casting their eyes about the room, taking in the empty bottles and filthy furniture scattering it as if they were its remains. Toward the back, there was even the skeleton of a young Gecko up against a wall with small, lingering pieces of flesh still rotting away from skin. That might explain the smell.. Beside it lay some unidentifiable mess of bones, blood, and innards. Remi scrunched his nose at the sight. He hoped that dead Gecko- and whatever the hell it was that was next to it- were the only animals they'd find.

Follows-Chalk noticed a closed cabinet behind a counter in the back of the station. Perhaps there was still something within it to be found, and even if there wasn't, he'd search it anyway. Chalk navigated around the trash and stains on the floor and hooked around the counter. He noted a small padlock on the cabinet upon having a closer look. He reached into one of the pockets along his utility belt and pulled out a bobby pin, then reached for the lock.

...Until a quiet, humming _rattle_ stopped him and froze his blood solid, fear clenching tight and cold in his heart. _That wasn't a Gecko._ Remi heard it as well and had brought his gun into both hands, holding it out in front of him, ready to aim and shoot. Remi's eyes darted around the room as he tried to locate the source of the rattling, which seemed to grow fiercer and fiercer in tone as seconds passed.

Only when that flurry of pale tan fur and diamond-pattered scales snapped into visibility and a loud hiss broke the stagnant air did Remi locate the rattler. Too late. It would only be revealing itself to attack. It felt like only a heartbeat's notice later that Follows-Chalk was slammed into the floorboards, a Nightstalker pinning him down by pressing its weight atop him, paws shoving into his shoulders and black lips curling over its jaws in a gut-wrenching snarl. Follows-Chalk struggled, breathing frantically, staring up at the creature. He shoved his legs up into the beast's torso with just enough force to knock it off. He managed to salvage himself enough time for him to scramble off the ground and get to his feet. However, the Stalker was quick to retaliate as it rose to its paws and sunk low to the ground on its hind legs, tail sweeping slowly behind it, and eyes locked in needle-like slivers on Chalk. Preparing to pounce.

Before the beast was given the opportunity to sink its daggers of teeth into Chalk's skin, and just as it began to lunge, a sound that made the Nightstalker's rattles but a whisper in comparison ripped through the air. A gunshot. With Remi behind the trigger.

The beast whimpered and stumbled, coughing, wheezing, gasping for air, and finally collapsing onto its side. Its chest still rose and fell with uneven gasps for a few moments longer before the bullet through its lungs drained enough blood to sap away its consciousness. Follows-Chalk, standing with his weight pressed to the counter, was taking in huge, shaky gulps of air. ..Not a surprising reaction. Nightstalkers were rare in this area; so much so that it was possible this could be the first time Follows-Chalk has ever seen one so close to taking a bite out of him.

This, however, was far from the first time for Remi. Nightstalkers were a common terror back in his home, the heart of the Mojave. Needless to say, no matter how much you see them, they never get any more fun to be around. They _do_ get easier to kill, though. Remi holstered his pistol and walked over to Chalk, stopping before the body of the dead Nightstalker. He nudged the body with the tip of his boot and cast his eyes up at Chalk, who by now was breathing a bit slower and with more ease. "Jesus, Chalk. You have got one fuckin' hell of a bad luck streak going for you," he grunted. "Let's hope we don't get Deathclaws now that we've got Yao Guai and Nightstalkers out of the way," he muttered irritably, giving the creature's body one last kick before stepping away from it, turning back to the small expanse of the Ranger Station.

Follows-Chalk exhaled slowly, steadily, and took his weight off the counter. He stumbled a bit, still being shaky, though caught his footing quickly. His eyes immediately found themselves locked onto the beast at his feet. Dead. A puddle of its own mutated blood forming around it. He felt a shiver slither down the length of his spine at the sight and forced himself to look away for fear it'd turn his stomach in some direction he didn't want it to. What an abomination of a beast; in life and in death. Chalk then sighed and turned his attention back to the cabinet he had originally sought after. ..He cringed at the sight of it. Due to Remi's gunshot, a spray of Nightstalker blood was gruesomely painted over the wood and glass in some ghastly work of art.

With fingers significantly less steady than before, Chalk pulled another bobby pin from a belt pocket. He crouched in front of the padlock sealing the cabinet shut and began toying with the lock with the pin between his fingers. Quiet metallic _clicks_ came from the mechanism as Chalk worked with it, though it wasn't until nearly a minute later than the distinctively louder _click_ that signified the lock being opened sounded off.

The padlock hit the floorboards with a_ clunk _as Chalk removed it. He then curled his fingers around the small handles of the cabinet doors and pulled it open. Slowly. The rusted hinges of the cabinet seemed to stubbornly resist and creak as they were pulled open.

Inside, the cabinet was comprised of three shelves. The first housing a box of Mentats, the second a couple boxes of Junk Food and a Stimpak, and the third.. A single book. A journal, in fact. Leatherbound. Brahmin skin, by the looks of it; and not too old, either. This being something Chalk would assume to be "pre-war knowledge," despite it not quite looking two-hundred years of age, and he took it. However, upon closer inspection, he'd find something much different than what he anticipated. Much more daunting.

Chalk flipped the journal onto the side which he hadn't seen yet and there on the cover, printed and pressed in a way that made it look branded to the leather, the sigil of Caesar's Legion.

What? What the hell?

This.. This needed to get to Joshua's eyes before anyone else's.


	5. Chapter 4

_Hello, again, everyone! I hope everybody's well n' all, and I apologize for the delay on this chapter. I've had a busy last couple weeks. The next chapter shouldn't be delayed, however, so watch out for it in two weeks.~_

* * *

However, that didn't necessarily mean it _was _going to get to Joshua's eyes first; not in the hands it'd found itself in, at least. As much guilt as it may invest in Chalk to do, he would conceal the journal from Remi before he even knew of its existence. He knew Remi would immediately take it from him and bring it straight to Joshua if he didn't. No questions asked. Chalk wouldn't even be allowed a peak on account of it probably being seen as _"confidential"._

Follows-Chalk just couldn't let that happen, considering his curiosities regarding the recent suspicions toward the Legion. If there was anything within this journal correlating with that, he had to know; whether or not he necessarily _needed_ to know.

Chalk cast a quick glance back at Remi, checking to make sure he was still preoccupied with searching the rest of the cabin, before slipping the journal into a satchel hanging off his shoulder and strewn across his chest. He then closed the cabinet and rose back to his feet, swinging back around the counter and walking over to Remi, who was busy tearing apart a shelf of empty food and drink containers. Chalk gave him a little tap on the shoulder, which nearly earned him a strike across the side of the head with the back of gun in return. Even if Remi did stop the blow from hitting its mark, Chalk still made a point to coil his fingers around Remi's wrist. Just as a precaution.

"Fuck, Chalk, don't do shit like that!" He hissed, yanking his arm away. "Next time I flinch, you might lose a couple braincells. Or maybe an eye," he grunted irritably meanwhile holstering his pistol once again, "I woulda thought Joshua taught you better than to pull stunts like that," he grumbled as he settled in front of the tribal, shoulders high, tense, and squared. Chalk brought his arms back to his sides, one hand closely holding the strap of his satchel.

"..My apologies. He has. I guess I had just disregarded that you are more easily scared than he is," Chalk replied, monotone, avoiding eye contact, and slipping a sly smile over his cheeks. The comment persuaded a passive rudeness, implying that Remi wasn't up to Joshua's extent of mental toughness. Implying he didn't have the balls. _Rude._ It made Remi's nostrils flare in a momentary scoff and he crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

"Right. Anyway, did you want something, or were you just looking for more bruises?" He was practically boiling over with enthusiasm to hear Chalk's reply. Chalk could tell by that condescending stare of his.

Follows-Chalk erected his stature and stood straight, still holding that strap tight against him. "Yeah- uh- yes." He cleared his throat. "I think we should start walking back to camp," at that Remi furrowed his brows and Chalk broke eye contact with him, casting his dark brown irises out the cabin window. "..By the looks of it, the sun will be setting soon. Joshua will not be happy if we return after dark," he explained. As smooth and even as his tone stayed, there was still that small, undeniable touch of nervous highness to it. The underlying doubt that Remi would see through his act.

Remi took a look out the window himself. Well, Chalk was right.. And after all, Joshua _did_ tell him to be back in camp before sundown. He sighed. "..Yeah." He moseyed past Chalk, who followed after him as he headed for the door. As they exited and let the door shut behind them, Remi took a glance back at Follows-Chalk. "Stay close, and no more tapping my goddamn shoulder," he puffed.

Their walk back to camp was as slow as it was painfully quiet, and they didn't reach Angel Cave 'till just before sunset. All the while, Chalk holding that satchel strap like it meant his life.

As they reemerged into camp, Remi and Chalk broke off from each other as Chalk made for Angel Cave and Remi for Joshua, who stood in the center of camp with arms crossed over his chest, eyes already boring down on him. His patience was probably shortening by now. Remi made it back only minutes before the sun sank below the Eastern Virgin, and thus only mere minutes before Joshua would've considered his arrival late.

"You took longer than necessary," he voiced as Remi strode up and stopped in front of him. At which comment Remi scoffed and rolled his eyes. Joshua didn't appreciate that response, however didn't respond much to it himself. "I said to be back before sundown, not during," he stated, this time with more assertiveness, as well as a brief displeased shake of his head.

Remi dismissed the initial comment. "For somebody who _counts their blessings,_ you sure bitch a whole lot, Josh," he sneered, brows furrowed. God, he was always so irritated by how Joshua required near everything to be complying flawlessly to his standards. ..Guess it was a control thing. Maybe an obsession with organization. Either way, it was a common habit of Joshua's which Remi didn't favor very highly.

Joshua only huffed a sigh through his nose before he spoke again. "..In any case, we would best be heading out now. I've no interesting in idling around any longer," he said, then shouldered past Remi, shooting him a quick glance as he went, as to demand he follow along without the use of verbal encouragement. Remi, of course, followed. No matter how he felt, if Joshua wanted him to come along, hell, he'd come along. It wasn't often Joshua and him spent time around one another, let alone assist one another in goals such as staking out Legionaries. ..Plus, Remi didn't want to aggravate Josh any further.

After Remi and Joshua had left camp and started on their path down the Grand Staircase, Follows-Chalk nestled himself in a secluded corner of Angel Cave, tucked between the split in a rock formation. He sat cross-legged, satchel by his side, and leatherback journal open in his lap. The Legion journal he'd found in the ranger station. He flicked through the pages, expression growing more and more perplexed as he went.

He wasn't- he couldn't- read a single page, much to his confusion. Chalk could read English.. He knew the language fairly well, in fact, but these letters and words before him.. He couldn't read them. He couldn't understand why he couldn't, either. These letters and patterns seemed familiar, but, nevertheless, they seemed as if they were written in some foreign language. Characters he knew were organized in strange, new strings of text.

Perhaps.. Perhaps that was something that had to do with this book's particular origin. ..Was this book written in_ Latin?_ Chalk always knew of the Legion's obsession with the long-dead culture, but he had no idea all ranks of the Legion commonly knew to write the language- or were even literate at all. Then again, maybe this wasn't the journal of just some mundane recruit.. It was all too unfortunate he couldn't read it and find out such things. It occurred to him that Joshua may be able to, given his former stature in the Legion.. Chalk flinched at that thought; the thought of handing the journal over to Graham and facing the evident consequences of having concealed it from him. Chalk decided he would just settle with things as they were.

Despite not being capable of reading a single word, he still progressed through the pages. There still may be something of value, and otherwise, he had his own curiosity driving him forward. Upon nearing the end and flicking through the last few pages, something caught his eye. Froze the natural action of his hand turning the page.

A name. A frighteningly, dauntingly familiar name. Written just at the bottom of the page, beside an alias.

Joshua Graham. The Burned Man.

"Can you stop that?" Low, irritable, and gruff. That was how Joshua's voice came across. As always. Joshua glared at Remi, eyes repeatedly swapping between his face and his Pip-Boy. For the last minute or two, Remi had started idly flicking the light on and off as they walked along a shallow, however wide riverside, which quickly got onto Joshua's nerves as it obstructed his vision in the darkness around them. Remi raised his eyebrows and mocked the displeased expression he guessed Joshua would have made, mouthing his words back at him. He took his hand away from the Pip-Boy and held the device on his wrist out, illuminating the ground in front of them, as Joshua wanted.

"Not like we're gonna bump into anything," Remi grumbled back at him as he continued to walk along, leading the way so that Joshua had a clear, lit path to walk through. "It's been at least a couple'a hours and all that's happened was I nearly lost my fuckin' balance."

Joshua scoffed. "You "nearly" tripped on a rock. A small one, at that." _Oh, _well that was a particularly snarky thing to say for Joshua.. Maybe his very tolerance for Remi was thinning, or maybe his speech was simply becoming more comfortable and less proper- by his own standards- around Remi. Either way, it rendered Joshua wittier than usual. Remi wasn't quite sure how he felt about that yet.

Remi furrowed his brows and huffed. "Cause to effect, Josh. Whatever." He'd pick up his pace, forcing Joshua to do the same. Joshua made a little grunt, but other than that, gave no opposition. "Anyhow, I doubt we're gonna find jack shit along the water. I think we should-"

"If you suggest another Yao Guai den, I'm ripping that Pip-Boy off your arm and leading the way for the rest of the night," he grumbled. Remi furrowed his brows. He'd only suggested that _once_ earlier this evening. And it was most definitely a legitimate idea; a Yao Guai cave would make a fantastic hiding spot, so long as you didn't get mauled by the mutated bears themselves.

"Don't assume so much,_ Legate,_" he retorted, "..I think we should search around the old White Leg camps. I mean- to your tribe, those places are sorta like ghost towns. Nobody ever goes around 'em, so why wouldn't the Legionaries tuck 'emselves out in there? Maybe they used them as temporary camps?" He asked, shrugging and glancing back at Joshua, as if searching for acceptance or refusal of his proposal. He saw little change in his expression, other than a loss in eye contact. However, if he had to guess, Joshua would have little interest in returning to former White Leg settlements, especially their base camp where Joshua executed Salt-Upon-Wounds. Sore memories lingered around those areas. Sore memories which he would not like to reanimate.

As much as Joshua would like to refuse Remi for the sake of avoiding White Leg encampments, he was painfully aware there was a likelihood of Legion having passed through them at some point. "..Perhaps. Let's continue down this pass until we reach the Ant Burrows, and if we still find nothing by the time we reach there.." He took a pause and sighed, "we'll begin toward Three Marys." Joshua cast a glance away and over the rock and soil ahead of them, toward the moon as it arched over high canyon walls; in the direction of former White Leg territory. He felt a pull of reluctance press onto his chest at the very thought of exploring those war grounds once again.

Remi slowed his quickened pace to something more relaxed now that he'd gotten a satisfactory answer out of Joshua. "Glad you're seeing things from my perspective," he mumbled, continuing onward, pacing himself as he sauntered along the riverside with Joshua at his heels.

From their place on the Eastern Virgin to the Ant Burrows wasn't a very long trek, around a half hour at the pace they were going at most. ..And, as expected, nothing happened and nor did they discover anything new on that short walk. Absolutely baffling- the Legion didn't leave careless traces of their passing through Zion along the riverside. Remi swirled around on his heel to face Joshua, now beginning to walk backwards. "You still gonna hold up your word?" He asked, quirking a brow, referring to the agreement on exploring White Legs territory.

Joshua passed a brief, inward sigh through his nose. "…I'm always a man of my word," he replied. Short and to the point, however still far from snarky or disrespectful; per expectation of Joshua. He noticed a short-lived grin perk on Remi's cheek, obviously pleased by Joshua's compliance.

"Oh, how I know you are," he replied quickly and whimsically, in tone, before turning back around and continuing to walk, now facing the direction in which he was headed. Joshua kept closely behind, eyes gluing themselves to the black and white _Kings_ logo on the back of Remi's leather jacket to keep him headed in the right direction and to keep his mind temporarily off of their eventual destination.

It felt as if it were barely a minute to Joshua before Remi was stopped, shining his Pip-Boy light ahead onto the beaten, scratched wooden signs before a narrow canyon that read _"Three Marys"_. By now, all natural light aside from that of the moon had escaped Zion, leaving all but what was lit by Remi's device enveloped in an inky, cobalt-black darkness. Although this darkness was familiar to Joshua, and he had traveled through it many times before, tonight it felt especially pressuring with the thought of having to traverse White Leg territory with it alongside him.

Remi glanced back at Joshua, then gestured to the path ahead with a flick of his chin, "you ready?" Joshua was already beginning to press forward.

"Do I need to be asked?" He questioned, glaring at Remi. A touch of weariness and concern lingered in that short-lived stare of his. Before Joshua could walk far enough ahead of Remi to lose the light of his Pip-Boy, he reached back and grabbed Remi's extended hand, the one with the device strapped to its wrist, then sharply tugging him to his side. This made Remi stumble, nearly falling if it weren't for Joshua's grasp.

"Jesus, you can just _ask _me to speed up!" He hissed.

"You wouldn't have complied as well." Joshua let go of Remi's hand and continued his course, standing solid and tall beside his companion. Calm, in appearance. As always. Remi eyed Joshua for a few moments longer before he made a quiet huff and faced ahead. He grit his teeth at the sight ahead of him.

Nothing. Accommodated by yet more nothingness.

Outside of the range his little light reached, everything was as dark and as thick as pre-war ink. The shadows of the canyon paired with the natural darkness of night rendered Three Marys a surrealistically dark, ominous place. Eventually, Remi's eyes grew tired and sore from staring into a pitch black canvas for so long, and changed to watching his and Joshua's feet move on the ground below them; which was close enough to his Pip-Boy to be sufficiently lit. He did this so that his eyes could rest and focus on something visible to him, and so that he didn't trip on any rubble. Whereas Joshua beside him still just stared ahead. Of course, Joshua was better suited to be doing so - someone like him, who's lived here for so long, is incredibly unlikely to do something as foolish as trip on a rock.

A couple more yards of walking, a couple more twists and turns through the narrow passage, Remi and Joshua still walked side by side, sharing Remi's small light. Remi eventually began to doze off into a trance of following the synchronized patterns of his and Josh's footsteps, even going as far as counting the seconds between left foot to right foot.

One. Only one second, and it never changed. Not once. Somehow, despite that, he continued to count. There was some odd appeal and satisfaction in following something that likely could vary, however never did. That consistency was.. pleasant. He continued to watch their feet, numbers ticking by in his head. Only two numbers: one and two. One for left, two for right.

_"One, two, one, two, one, two, one..-"_

A loud thump, a coinciding gasp, and the sound of gravel crunching beneath a solid weight intruded on Remi's thoughts. Then faint, muttered curses. ..A sudden interruption in Remi's counting. He missed two. He was forced to stop, break focus from his feet and…

Joshua's feet. Which, speaking on, they were no longer by his. Not from the position of Joshua standing, at least.

Before he even had the time to reel over the information in his head, a hand lifted up and tapped- smacked- against Remi's thigh, effectively stopping him. "Could you bother helping me up?"

Did Joshua-

No. There was no way.

….

He did.

Joshua tripped. Fell down. He made the sort of mistake _Remi_ would've made.

Remi aimed his Pip-Boy light on Joshua, who was still on his back, one elbow dug into the ground while the other arm was outstretched, hand reaching for what he hoped to be Remi's. The Courier caught a glint of Joshua's gray-blue eyes with the light, which already reflected his aggravation with this situation he'd put himself in. Remi grinned before grabbing Josh's hand with his own and pulling, easily hoisting Joshua to his feet. Once he let go, Joshua briefly wiped the dust and pebbles from his clothes and shot a glare at Remi, who wore the most amused grin over his cheeks. This one was similar to that he wore while they smoked together; it pushed at his cheeks so much it charmingly tipped his mustache.

"Guess you can't hold anything against me anymore, Josh," he teased, then took a glance around the area upon which they stood. He looked back up at Joshua, "and, y'know, I don't even see any rocks! Guess you tripped over your own feet."

Joshua grumbled. "Not likely. Probably an empty bottle or otherwise junk that rolled away when I hit it. Those sorts of things are common in this part of Zion, as the White Legs were notorious for improperly discarding garbage." Remi's grin only grew wider. Such excuses..

"I'll just take your word for that," he snorted sarcastically, then began walking again, returning his Pip-Boy clad arm to facing out in front of them. Joshua drew in a long inhale, as to tame an urge to bark at Remi for his rudeness, and settled back in at his side. If Remi weren't so dependable in his work efforts, Joshua would likely trade him for another traveling partner in a heart-beat. But, alas, Remi was his only trustworthy ally with abilities suitable for his quest, and thus his _only_ traveling partner.

As the two progressed further into the canyon, they reached the battle-torn land where Joshua and Remi fought through hoards of White Legs, only to be separated by a collection of sandstone collapsing and blocking what would've been Joshua's path to the entrance of the caverns. Now that they were returning and the path was still blocked, they would both have to travel the route around the cavern; the one which Joshua had taken so many months ago. This path was longer and didn't go through the cavern itself, but rather went around it, however it also lead to the grounds where Salt-Upon-Wounds was slain, as well as to a secondary "back entrance" to the caves.

Upon arriving in the cove-like clearing, Joshua stepped away from Remi and now stood in front of him, taking longer, slower steps and taking in the entirely of this withered, broken place. He could see the entire area clearly, in an eery white glow, as Remi's light ricochet off the narrow walls. In the center of the hollow lie a boulder, stained and bloody, with a skeleton leaning against it, hand to its White Leg armor-clad chest. It lay in a position as if it were pressing its weight to the stone, using it to hold it up in its last moments. Dry blood, deep and pungent crimson in color, trailed from just behind the base of the body's back onto the dry soil beneath it, as if it had sustained a terribly bleeding, seeping wound. Joshua had stopped moving completely at the sight of it. He recognized the corpse, even without its flesh. Salt-Upon-Wounds.

Remi stepped up to his side, glancing between Graham and the long-since-picked bones. He cleared his throat, as to catch Josh's attention. "it's sorta like an omen, y'know," he began. Joshua remained quiet and still; aside from his fingers, which flexed in tight fists, nails digging into his palms. "How his goal was to destroy and conquer anything and everything. He took that goal so far, he ended up doin' it to himself," he said, taking a pause as he drew in a breath, "..And it's an omen, 'cause that's exactly what Caesar's doin'," Joshua's head turned and he fixed his eyes on Remi, "and one day he'll destroy himself, too." His eyes returned to the corpse.

"You're right," and with that, he left Remi's side to crouch next to the bones. He pushed them away from the boulder, careful enough not to break its fragile form as he did so. He began shifting the sand under where the bones used to lie, breaking the thin layer of dried blood atop it. "It was God's plan to see Salt-Upon-Wounds lead himself to his own failure," he said, "I believe his plans for Edward cannot be much different. Only.." He paused, "Edward- _Caesar-_ is twice the evil that Salt-Upon-Wounds was. He, his evil, will lead others to destruction with him." By now Remi had moved to stand over Joshua, watching as he moved stone and sand. Eventually, he uncovered pieces of charred wood, alongside ash-stained stones. Pieces of a long-dead campfire. Joshua picked up a piece of burnt wood in his hand, rubbing it between his pointer finger and thumb until it crumbled and left the bandages around his hand blackened. "Others such as myself. Your omen condemns me to burn at his hand once again."

Remi's brows lowered and his lip twitched. "That's _ridiculous_," he replied, surprisingly defensive. "Whatever brings Caesar to his defeat, it will be _his_ defeat. Maybe his fucking cult's, too, but not yours," he said, speaking quicker, subtly frantic. "why-" he gestured his hands out in front of him, palms wide open, expressing disbelief, "why the hell would it be yours, too? If it's anything, it should be your _victory_!"

Joshua closed his eyes and shook his head. He straightened his posture, still crouched on the ground next to the boulder. He reopened his eyes, fixating them on Remi, "because I could have prevented the evil that became Caesar." At those few words, Remi's mouth shut and his hands froze where they were. There was nothing he could say. But, nevertheless, he still thought Joshua was wrong. Joshua was not truly an evil man, nor was the blame for Caesar's rise to power at his hands, and his hands alone.

Before a quiet tension could build between them, Remi crouched down beside Joshua, who had resumed digging up the buried campfire. His expression had reduced to something particularly blank, unreadable. He intended that, had done it intentionally. He didn't want Joshua to see his irritation and aggressive disbelief toward Joshua's point of view of his "omen". Remi fixed his sapphire blues on Joshua. "What're you.. uh.. doing?"

"Salt-Upon-Wounds;" he began slowly, meanwhile still recovering pieces of blackened wood, "his corpse was moved." Joshua spoke as if he knew this for certain, "I recall his death near perfectly. He didn't fall on the boulder- nor crawl to it- and he didn't die by bleeding to death," his tone grew deeper and sharper as he spoke, "he died immediately. By a bullet. _My_ bullet," an underlying growl was developing in his voice now, "I remember he fell onto nothing but dirt. Not a single stone involved." He paused, placing his eyes on an ashy stone which he'd picked up in his hand. "He was moved in order to cover something." He turned the stone in his palm. "This." He dropped the stone back into the dirt.

Remi blinked, confused. "A.. campfire?" His brows furrowed and he flicked his gaze to the boulder, then back at Joshua. "But Salt's blood is on the stone; you saw it. How would-"

"It's staged." Joshua lifted his hand and set his fingertips to the dried blood on the rock. "This hasn't been here near as long as Salt-Upon-Wounds has been dead. Blood that's been exposed to the air for more than a damned year wouldn't look like it could've been spilled this week." Joshua took his hands away from the stone and returned them to the dirt, shuffling around, digging deeper. "…The question is; a campfire for whom, and hidden by whom.." He trailed off, lifting his hand back out of the remains of the fire. He had a look upon his face that said he knew the answer to his question. Something was clasped in his hand now. A necklace; a pendant hanging from a thin metal chain.

The pendant was a round, bronze-gold colored medallion. Remi focused on it as it turned back and forth at the end of the chain which it danged from, brought his Pip-Boy light up to it. In the center of the medallion, a bull stood, ready to charge.

The Bull; the emblem of The Legion. This was a covered Legionary scout camp. Scouts, specifically, because anyone of higher rank would not have made such a fatal error. This much was obvious. Though, nevertheless, it was uncommon for the Legion to make any such mistakes regardless.

Joshua couldn't have experienced a stronger mixture of satisfaction, revelation, and anger. He rose to his feet, hand still tightly clenching the pendant in his hands. He help it up high enough so that the pendant was level with his eyes. He stared at it. Furious. He drew in a long, harsh breath before lowering the necklace back and looking to Remi, who was rising to his feet beside him.

"You were right." He spoke low, through what were practically gritted teeth, "they tried to hide right under my fucking nose." The hand holding the pendant jerked, tensing around the chain, fingers flexing. "They tried to use my own weakness against me," he muttered. Joshua looked away. He sighed, slumping his shoulders. "..I suppose that's why you're here, though, and that's why I need you here." He forced his hand to relax, taming veins in his arm that'd risen. "You don't have my weaknesses, and nor do I yours. Were you not here, and I was left to only myself and my men, I never would have found this.." he paused, "this proof that I _knew _the Legion was on my land."

This revelation would put Remi at higher cost to Joshua, and of more significance. It seemed Remi was no longer such an easily replaced companion, now that Joshua knew him to be not only trustworthy, but a healthy contrast from himself. Now, if only he weren't leaving in only a few days..


	6. Chapter 5

_Welcome to chapter 5, I'm glad we've already made it this far! This chapter's a little shorter than the previous ones, though I can promise the chapters to follow will be far from short. I'm excited to say we're getting close to what I hope is the most interesting bits._

_Thanks for reading!_

* * *

The morning following Joshua and Remi's excursion was quite the unbearable one. Joshua roamed camp with a constant look of thoughtful anger upon his face; a look dripping with an ache for vengeance. Similar to the one he wore while fighting through the White Leg invasion of Zion. Whereas, Remi stayed slumped over, unkept, and draining away a pack of cigarettes in Joshua's cut-off of Angel Cave. Follows-Chalk hadn't been seen all morning. A couple of the other tribals mentioned he'd went out with a scouting group to the other end of the Eastern Virgin earlier this morning, however. No one knew when he'd come back.

Joshua paced just outside the entrance of Angel Cave, necklace chain coiled around his hand while the bull pendant itself was clenched in his palm. He hadn't set the thing down since he'd found it. Not that anyone had tried to take it from him, but nevertheless, he kept a tight grip on that poor, inanimate thing as if he expected it'd leap out of his hand if he didn't. Each of his men avoided Graham for the time being, as they were familiar with this _mood_ of his. They knew well enough not to bother him while he was in it.

Remi, who was still inside the cave, sat at Joshua's desk. He was leaned over it, elbows propped against the table, both hands in front of his mouth. One hand held another cigarette to his lips, the other held a silver lighter under it. He sighed at the first wisp of smoke rising and fading into the dry air, then replaced the lighter in a pocket. The pocket, for once, not being one of his leather jacket. He'd taken it off and set it, folded sloppily, on the edge of Joshua's desk. This left his upper-body with only a dingy, gray-white shirt. How uncharacteristic. He looked a mess this way; shoulders absent of that familiar black leather, position far from erect, unshaven, spilling rolls of smoke into the air, and dark chocolate locks a ruffled mess atop his head. He hadn't slept last night. Hadn't had the opportunity to. Hadn't wanted to.

"I don't appreciate you filling the entire cave with smoke, you know." Remi's head jerked up at the sudden voice breaking his silence, alert, eyes directed to the entrance. Joshua stood in the passageway, arms crossed over his chest. "You should bring that outside," he said, giving a gesture behind him with a nod of his head. Remi's head dipped back down and a short grin perked at his lips. Was that Joshua's way of inviting him outside for, what, another cigarette and a talk? Hopefully this one wouldn't end in throwing punches, in which case. Remi took his cigarette from his mouth and to his fingers, exhaling a thick stream of smoke. He ran his free hand through his hair, pushing locks away from his forehead before he stood from Josh's desk.

"I didn't think you minded the smell of smoke anymore," he scoffed as walked around the desk, grabbing a half-empty pack of cigarettes and shoving them in his back pocket as he did so. Remi walked across the room to Joshua and grinned particularly modestly to him.

"It's bad for the lungs."

"Right. You give a damn about that now."

Joshua scoffed and gave a slow, brief shake of his head. Remi noticed his eyes squint and cheeks perk ever-so slightly. He'd smiled behind those concealing bandages of his. "I always have, Remi. You make me stop giving a damn."

"So, I'm kind of like lung cancer?"

"Exactly like lung cancer." At that, Remi gave a little chuckle and Joshua turned to begin walking out of the room, Remi following closely behind, cigarette replaced between his lips. They walked a short distance away from the cave after they rose from it, eventually ending in the center of camp, setting themselves around a cold, dormant campfire which the tribals generally used for cooking and warmth after sundown. Remi sat with his legs bent at the knees, hands hanging overtop his knees while his wrists rested against them. Joshua sat beside him, cross-legged, hands in his lap. One hand still had that necklace wrapped around it.

Remi pulled a cigarette from the pack he'd grabbed, gestured it toward Joshua. "Want one?" Joshua shook his head.

"Not today. Wouldn't want to replace the bandages again this early." Remi nodded, shrugged, replaced the item, and returned to smoking his own. Not too long before his would be out. He glanced over at Graham from his position on the ground, craning his neck to take a peak at his neatly folded hands. He just barely caught the glint of bronze-y metal contrasting against white bandages that confirmed Joshua still had the pendant. He'd expected as much.

"Did you have anything like that while you were, y'know, still in the Legion?" He asked, knowing Joshua would know exactly what he was referring to.

He paused. "Yes, but not exactly like this," he said, lifting the hand with the necklace and letting the pendant hang from an inch or two of loose chain off his hand. "This belonged to someone of a lower stature in the legion. A recruit. Maybe a courier," he said, eyes fixated on the medallion. "The medal a Legate wears bears a different crest; not of the bull, but of Caesar himself. Perhaps, if the Legate has made such an impact to've earned it, his own self." Remi nodded, listening with an obvious curiosity. He found Joshua's past as the former Legate and co-founder of The Legion fascinating. It was like talking to Joshua about a completely different person who he had a seemingly endless knowledge of.

"Did your pendant have your face on it, then?" He asked. He wondered, if what Joshua said was true, did Lanius have his face or Caesar's on a medal? He'd resist asking, given his knowledge of Joshua's distaste for the Legion's acting Legate.

"It did," he replied, "I've since lost the pendant. Didn't care for it enough to keep track of it, nor what it stood for. However, I would not be surprised if the Legion has used my face again since my exile; as a mark of shame." Joshua spoke about the subject of the Legion's attitude toward him as if it didn't bother him in even the least. Perhaps it was just insignificant to him now, perhaps his indifference was an act. At his words, Remi looked away and gave a short nod. It felt wrong in Remi's mind: how the Legion regarded Joshua, even if Joshua himself didn't seem to mind it. It felt to him as if an entire cult of hundreds was looking at a single man from a unanimous wrong perspective. A wrong perspective fed to their minds by their manipulative tyrant king.

"The Legion doesn't know shame," Remi added in Joshua's defense. Joshua's brows furrowed and he gave a light scoff.

"I disagree. The foundation upon which a Legionary is built is made up of shame. Shame, fear, and obedience." Joshua turned to face Remi, who was blowing one last river of smoke into the breeze before he dropped his cigarette butt into the dirt and crushed it under the toe of his boot. "What the Legion doesn't know is humility."

Remi lifted his chin. "How do you figure?"

"The Legion sees themselves as those who work under a divine, powerful being, and thus find themselves to have more worth than any other person, ghoul, or mutant in the Wasteland that doesn't share in their _greater belief_. They lack humility. Their leader lacks humanity." As Remi listened, he noticed Joshua's tone lower with a faint growl. Likely one of disgust.

"Did you.." He paused, hesitated, as Joshua lifted his gaze and made flawless eye contact with him. "Did you lack humanity when you were Legate, like Caesar?" Just like that, once again, his slate blue eyes were lost.

"I can only hope he and I no longer share that trait, Rem," he admitted. They fell into silence beyond those words. Remi's eyes fixed on the overcast sky, occasionally glancing over at his companion, who had closed his eyes. He was still awake, however. His hand still moved over that pendant in his hand, thumb rubbing over the smooth metal. After around twenty minutes of silence slipped through the palms of both men, Remi cleared his throat to speak. Joshua's eyes opened to narrow slits.

"Three more days, y'know," he mumbled. When Joshua's eyes focused on Remi, his eyes were gazing up at the soft, thick clouds overhead. Joshua knew what Remi was speaking of. Three more days until he was leaving Zion for New Vegas.

"Three more days 'till I have to tolerate your absence for a week, and thus have all work put on hold for a week," Joshua passed a short sigh. "Be sure it's only a week, otherwise I'll have to bruise your jaw again. You know I don't like it when you're late, nor do I want to have to compensate." Remi grinned scoffed a chuckle.

"_Tolerate it_.. You'll find it's a week off," he paused, glancing over at Joshua, "and it means no more smoke in your damn room." He grinned. "When am I ever late?" Joshua furrowed his brows.

"Fine. Then don't return on time by just the skin of your teeth."

Remi nodded. "I'd even bet I'll make it back a day early," he said, smile broadening. Joshua couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"I can only pray you're not as bad a gambler as I suspect," he poked, sending a surprisingly friendly glance to his counterpart, who huffed and lifted his chin. Pretending to be offended, though the grin on his cheeks made the aspect of pretend obvious.

"I've placed more winning bets than you'd think, Josh."

Their week from there on out was as slow as it was daunting. Little happened during the day, and now that Joshua had that pendant as his evidence of Legion presence in Zion, he stayed in camp for almost every hour of each day. Which, by extension, kept Remi in camp for just as long. Remi would meander around camp, gathering and preparing his things for his departure, while Joshua prepared for his week of what he expected to be an unbearable lack of progress. The two of them would cross paths on occasion, exchange words, share meals with the other tribals, but little else happened between the two for the remainder of the week. They were both subconsciously avoiding any significant conversations or actions happening between themselves, on account of Remi having to up and leave in only a few days. Wouldn't want to start anything if you knew you couldn't finish it.

Three days passed. The day of Remi's departure from Zion.

Remi stirred inside Angel Cave, awkwardly shuffling into a white t-shirt in the pitch black of morning before sunrise. He got his arm stuck in the wrong hole, had the shirt turned backwards, and had too many wrinkles in the fabric to count. Guess he wasn't much of a morning person. After he managed to slip on his shirt and smooth it down over his belt, he threw his leather jacket over his shoulders in a swift, smooth, practiced motion. At least he could do that without any lights on. He fixed the collar, fixed his hair, then lifted his Pip-Boy up to his eyes. The screen lit his face with a soft green glow, and he turned the dial on the side to flip through the pages. Checked his status. No crippled limbs, well fed and hydrated, no acute radiation.. All fit to travel. Remi let his arm fall by his side. He glanced around the cavity of the cave he stood in, peeking around to where Joshua lie to check if he still slept. He did.

Remi sighed through his nose. Leaving, no matter if alone or with others, was never an easy task for him. He figured it would be best to leave without the good grace of goodbyes. He began walking out of the cave. The caravan that would be taking him back home was scheduled to reach Zion at approximately 6:00AM, so it was that reason why he had the opportunity to wake early and leave Dead Horse camp without so much as a nod of his head, much less a proper goodbye. He wouldn't stop as he walked through camp, just made his way out in quiet and in peace. The only sound filling his ears was that of the sand and rock crunching beneath his boots.

"I would've thought you had more integrity than to leave in the middle of the night." Remi froze in his steps. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and made a soft, defeated sigh. He should've known Joshua wasn't going to let him just slip out without a word said.

He stood still and only tilted his head, glancing back at Joshua, who stood a few feet out of the cave entrance. He lacked his bandages, his black vest, and his rattlesnake boots and belt. Only a white three-quarters buttoned shirt and those torn up jeans of his. "It's _technically_ morning," he retorted back. A short, sad grin quirked at his lips. Joshua stepped further from the cave entrance, eventually ending at Remi's side. By the look on his face, Remi could tell Joshua didn't like his leaving, either.

"It's three in the morning, Remi. It's night," he insisted, monotone. Silence overtook them for only a few moments. "I don't know why you would expect I wouldn't notice you leaving." Remi huffed.

"I guess you never have been the type," he mumbled. "At least I made an attempt." Joshua scoffed at him in return and pat his shoulder.

"At least you did- and failed. I suppose it tells me how little of an impact you'd wish to leave, even though if you had left without a goodbye, it would have affected us more," he said, tone lowering and taking on an unfamiliar smoothness.

"..Right. Look, I just don't like goodbyes."

"And I respect your views. I share them, in fact. But, nevertheless, it's low even for you to leave in a manner no different than the thief slipping out the back window when his partner isn't looking. Especially, granted, I don't even know why exactly you're leaving."

"Wow, don't make me feel any better, Josh." Joshua lifted his chin and rolled his shoulders. He wasn't apologetic in the least for his crude comparison.

"Mmh. Like goodbyes or not, you should still take the time to make them. I've learned through my life that you never know when you'll be able to say such things again." Remi felt a weight settle on his chest. Was Joshua implying that one day one of their farewells like this would be their last? ..Well.. Of course, that was inevitable, no one lives forever, but it was something Remi had never thought about before. He didn't want to think about it.

Remi turned to be face-to-face with Joshua. He stood silent for a moment, drew in a long inhale. "..Goodbye, Josh," he said. The two exchanged a brief dip of the head and moment of eye contact. Remi turned to begin walking out of camp. "Keep Chalk out of trouble."

Remi's venture back to New Vegas felt as if it were weeks slower than his trip to Zion, with much on his mind to weigh down and draw out his thoughts, though it felt just as good when it ended, and even better to have his feet sink back into familiar Mojave sand. He was released back into the Mojave where he'd first started this journey: at the Northern Passage. He retrieved his stowed gear and began his way across the desert landscape. Past New Vegas itself, in fact. That wasn't his real destination on this trip. No, he had come back on a specific agenda that drew him past the old-world border of Nevada, and into that of Arizona. Across the Colorado.

Now hours into his return to his homeland, Remi walked along an ages old boardwalk, armor-clad men standing guard on all sides, and one waiting for him in a small boat ahead. As he stepped into the boat, the ferryman gave a nod of his head and uttered one short sentence in ritualistic greeting.

"Ave, true to Caesar." Remi would remain silent and only nod back in return. It would feel like needles piercing his tongue, were he to return those words.

This place.. This awful place, the home of the Legion, felt all the more daunting with Joshua and his involvement with The Burned Man's affairs in mind. The only thing keeping his mind out of a complete nervous slur was the constant reminder that his presence here was solely business, while his presence around Joshua was more than that. He stepped past the large wooden gates of The Fort with cautious steps. He knew each and every man here would have his head on a pike before Caesar were they to know of the man he considered an ally and a friend. Remi made certain that he didn't make eye contact with a single soul as he passed through camp. He evaded the eyes of even the highest ranked soldiers in the Legion, such as Vulpes and Lucius. Those two especially could see right through the unease he hid behind his solid, blank expression.

After having been granted permission, Remi passed through the curtain concealing Caesar's personal tent. His stomach felt like it was twisting around in tight knots as he approached the tyrant, sitting pretty on his throne. He stopped at the fraud son of Mars' feet.

"I appreciate your effort to keep to my tight schedule. Our last source of _help_ was days late," Caesar sighed, "he is no longer holding any ties with the Legion, though I'm sure you would've assumed that already."

"I imagine. Your time does not need to be wasted, does it?" What an appeaser Remi could make himself in order to keep a raging bull at bay. This, and this alone, was his sole reason for taking work from the Legion. He needed to keep a positive reputation with the union of barbarians in order to maintain balance throughout the Mojave and for himself. A negative impression with the Legion would mean a world of misery for Remi and all who he knew, which was something he didn't want. He'd keep the Legion as far from his allies as he could, while he could.

"No," he made a gesture toward Vulpes, who stood by his side in a perfect soldier-grade stature. "Vulpes has your assignment ready, I expect you'll have it done as requested." Remi nodded and looked to the unsettling Frumentarii fox, whose eyes were invisible behind fitting black goggles.

Vulpes nodded briefly in greeting, however his expression remained the same. Cold. Emotionless. "I had sent a Frumentarii of mine to collect a_ package_ of sorts off a weapon supplier in Freeside," he explained, "that same Frumentarii came to betray us and made off with our package for himself. As far as I know, he is still in Freeside somewhere.." Vulpes' tone lowered, "I want him found and I want him killed. He isn't to be spared an execution; I only want his life ended as soon as possible. Then, bring the package back to us." He paused, stared dead into Remi's eyes. Remi could just barely make out his irises past dark lenses. "In the case you do the same this profligate did, we will have you not killed, but caught and strewn up onto a cross, then set ablaze for all to watch. Are my instructions understood?"

"Clear as day." With that, Vulpes turned his head. This was his silent means of dismissing Remi, which Remi responded to with walking out of Caesar's tent without another word.

As Joshua had once said, he considered killing just a chore when done righteously. Remi wished he could convince himself this assigned task was nothing more than a chore; one that didn't challenge his loyalties, at that.

Back in Zion, Remi's _loyalties_ sat atop one of the cliffs enclosing Dead Horse camp, near the highest point of camp. He flipped the Legion pendant in his hand, watching the sun set over the canyon he called home; watching as if he were the self-proclaimed guard of this place and its people.


End file.
